It all adds up
by Writersblock42
Summary: COMPLETE. How did Bulma and Vegeta get together? What could they possibly have in common? And more importantly, why is Vegeta afraid of worms? Find out in my BV 3 year gap fic.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

Vegeta eyed the three bots circling him, ignoring the trickle of sweat trailing down his forehead and onto his eyelashes. His muscles trembled under the weight of three hundred times Earth's gravity. The pounding in his head wouldn't let up, and even keeping his eyes open was an effort, let alone maintaining his defensive stance.

He had his strategy mapped out in his mind. Take out the one on the left, get in between the other two, force them both to fire at him then duck out of the way as they fired, ultimately destroying themselves. It was the oldest tactic in Vegeta's extensive mental library, but the bots weren't exceptionally sophisticated yet. It should have been easy to pull off.

Vegeta raised a shaking arm and fired a ki blast at the bot to his left. He know immediately that he'd missed by about three degrees. Cursing, he flung himself to the right, hitting the tiles on the GR floor face down as a blast from one of the bots skimmed over his head.

Another blast shot out, and Vegeta attempted to roll out of the way, firing back. The attacking bot fell to the floor in a smoldering heap of metal, but Vegeta clutched his left side, feeling slick, warm blood oozing between his fingers.

"Get up," Vegeta muttered to himself. The Prince of all Saiyans would _not_ fail at the hands of a hunk of metal. Not now, and not in two and a half years when the androids were supposed to arrive.

The remaining two bots circled and powered up to fire, their eerie red eyes brightening as they did so. Vegeta pushed himself up to his hands and knees with a groan, gritting his teeth against the stinging of his side. As the bots' energy blasts beamed towards him, he shoved himself backwards towards the GR's console.

Using it as a launch pad, Vegeta pushed off into the air, aiming for a spot between the two bots. He hovered in the air until the bots' lights brightened.

The blasts were close enough for him to feel their heat, but Vegeta dropped to the ground at the last moment. There was a sizzling sound and the smell of smoke permeated the air. At the sound of two thuds, Vegeta let out a breath of relief. The bots were down.

Vegeta tried to stand up again, but his legs wouldn't work beneath him. With a frustrated growl, he dragged himself back towards the console. With the last of his energy he managed to stretch and slam his hand down on the red emergency stop button.

He collapsed to the floor as normal gravity resumed, letting his jellied limbs go limp and closing his eyes. He could hear the GR powering down and, now out of immediate danger, Vegeta let a numb sleep overtake him for the first time in three days.

* * *

 **A/N: The first few chapters are short, and they get longer as the story progresses. This is my first fanfic, and it took me a while to get the hang of decent chapter lengths!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling and the metric system for measuring (100 metres is about 328 feet).**

Bulma stared at the equation on the whiteboard in front of her. She'd been battling with it since her and Yamcha had broken up a few weeks ago, but no matter what theorem she applied she couldn't crack it. "It's just not adding up!" She huffed in annoyance, then giggled at her own unintentional pun. "Oh well, I'm sure I'll figure it out tomorrow. I _am_ a genius after all."

Bulma flung herself into her office chair and spun it around to face her desk. Mathematics to solve how to increase the GR's gravity without the structure caving in on itself could wait. The problem on her desk was much more interesting anyway. Laid out in front of her were samples from Vegeta's Saiyan armour. She'd been studying it for a while now, trying to figure out how to replicate it. "It's definitely partly organic material." She said, peering through the microscope and scribbling notes with a pencil. "But there aren't any natural fibres on Earth that are strong enough for what this needs to withstand."

Bulma leaned back in her chair, tapping the pencil against her lower lip. "It's going to need to be completely synthetic, but there must be a way to replicate its qualities." She stood up suddenly, a brainwave hitting her. "Dad's been working on that material for tents that can withstand any weather conditions. Maybe that would help."

She rushed out of her lab, turning the corner towards her father's office before realising the corridor lights were off. She glanced at her watch, her eyes widening when she realised the time. "Tomorrow it is," she said with a sigh. She suddenly realised that she hadn't eaten in hours. Yawning noisily, she made her way to the kitchen instead to have a night time snack before bed.

* * *

Vegeta awoke with the familiar metallic taste of blood in his mouth. Stomach lurching, he dragged himself to his feet, using the GR's console for support. The room spun around him, but he wasn't surprised given the amount of blood pooled on the floor. He glanced down at his wound. It had already begun to heal, but it was deep, with scorch marks on the skin around it.

Vegeta dragged himself to the GR's door and opened it, breathing in deeply as fresh air hit his face. The stars were out and judging by the lack of lights on inside the Capsule Corp living quarters it was late. It was about a hundred metres to the door. If he could fly, it was about two hundred metres to the balcony of the bedroom Bulma had given to him six months ago.

Gripping to the doorway, Vegeta flared his ki experimentally. It stuttered weakly.

"I guess flying is out." Vegeta frowned and focused on the door ahead. One step at a time. He could do this. And once he did, inside there would be a first aid kit, food, and a comfortable bed...

Vegeta placed a bare foot on the damp grass, then started making his way over. He stumbled at the half way point, but didn't stop, planting one foot after the other on the cool ground. When he made it to the door he fell against it, fumbling for the handle which seemed to have disappeared.

Giving up on the handle momentarily, Vegeta placed his hand over his wound which was now screaming at him for attention. He pressed his forehead against the door and sucked in the deep breath, willing himself to try again. Before he could, the door opened for him, and Vegeta fell inside, landing in front of a pair of feet with bright red toenails.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

When Bulma had heard a scuffling sound at the door by the kitchen, she went to investigate, assuming it was her father's cat until a body fell inside and landed on the floor in front of her.

She jumped back with a small shriek, then turned a light on. The body groaned, and Bulma let out a sigh of relief and then a cry of dismay when she realised what state he was in. "What have you done to yourself this time, Vegeta?"

He turned his head at her voice and blinked blearily up at her. His knuckles were bloody and deep grazes covered his arms and torso. He was holding his side, so Bulma knelt beside him, gently tugging his hand away from it.

"I'm fine, woman." He tried to shove her away, but it was a feeble attempt.

Bulma furrowed her brow in concern. He was in bad shape - worse than she'd seen in a while. His face was slick with sweat, and his normally olive skin had taken on a worryingly grey sheen.

She grabbed his hand, lest he try hide his wound again, but he let it fall limply in hers.

Carefully, she attempted to roll him onto his uninjured side to get a better look at the wound. Blood had smeared on the floorboards, and Bulma blanched at just how much there was. She shuffled forward, supporting Vegeta's body with her knees and using them as leverage to lean him back slightly. He grunted at the movement, but didn't fight it.

The wound was deep and the skin was burnt around it. She'd place bets it was one of the bots that had done it, but they weren't supposed to fire blasts strong enough to break through Saiyan skin like this. It shouldn't have been bleeding like this either, with the energy blast cauterising the wound on impact. Vegeta must have done more injury to himself after being hit.

"I just... need..." Vegeta's words came out in small gasps. "A bandage... food... water."

"You need to not have a death wish," Bulma snapped back. "I let you stay here to train to fight the Androids so you could help save Earth, not so you could kill yourself before they've even arrived."

Vegeta laughed, but it quickly turned into a cough. He pulled his hand from hers. "This," he said, waving his hand vaguely at his injury, "is nothing." His eyes fluttered shut. "I've had much worse."

Bulma' heart tugged a little at those words. "From Frieza?"

Vegeta's eyes snapped open and he fixed a furious glare at her. "That's none of your business."

Bulma raised her hands in mock surrender. "Okay! Sorry, your highness."

Vegeta growled and started to push himself up.

"What do you think you are doing? Oh, for goodness sake, at least let me help you." Bulma rolled her eyes at the stubborn prince and pulled one of his arms over her shoulder and wrapped one of her arms around his waist. "For a short guy you weigh a ton," she grumbled as the staggered upright together.

She got another glare at that, but Vegeta let her help him into the kitchen when she dumped him unceremoniously into a dining chair.

He was breathing heavily, but didn't look as if he was about to fall out, so Bulma went in search of the first aid kit.

"Under the sink, left draw," Vegeta muttered.

Bulma frowned as she found the kit exactly where he'd said it was. How many times had he come in here late at night and fixed himself up?

"I know Saiyan's heal fast, but you need to be more careful," she said as she brought the kit over. She pulled a chair over next to his and sat in it, leaning forward to inspect his injury. "You're not indestructible you know." She applied antiseptic to the wound, wincing on his behalf even though his face didn't give away anything. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her as she dressed his wound. "I'd feel awful if our bots killed the Prince of all Saiyans. Not to mention it's bad for business when your products kill people."

Vegeta let out a sharp laugh at that and Bulma looked up and met his gaze. He didn't look away, his dark eyes unblinking.

Bulma cleared her throat awkwardly. "Uh... hands please." When he didn't move, she simply took his left hand and started applying antiseptic, staring intently at her work. "I assume the bots are worse off than you. You know, I installed the emergency stop on the console so you could use it _before_ you and the bots rip each other to shreds." Bulma wrapped his hand then started fixing up the other one. "If you are trying to torture yourself there are ways of doing so without doing bodily harm. I could take you to a pop concert with music awful enough to make your ears bleed if you wanted."

She finished wrapping his right hand, then started applying antiseptic to the scratches on his chest, trying not to stare at his muscles. Did he _have_ to train without a shirt? Feeling herself flush, Bulma kept babbling to try hide it. "Or I could take you shopping with me. The crowds, the fluorescent lights, the hours of standing while I try on clothes... surely that would have you begging for mercy."

Vegeta surprised her by laughing again. "Even I'm not _that_ twisted." He placed a bandaged hand over hers and pulled it away from his chest. "They'll heal. I need food."

"Are all royalty this demanding?" Bulma pulled away and stood up, making her way to the kitchen bench. "What you really need is fluid. You've lost a bit of blood. Water or tea?"

"Tea?"

Vegeta had framed it as a question but Bulma didn't realise that it was less of an 'I'm not sure' and more of a 'What exactly is tea' until she'd made a cup and thrust it into his hands.

He stared at the liquid, sniffing it cautiously before taking a sip. When he took a second sip she turned to the fridge and started rummaging around. "I was planning on heating up a pizza in the microwave before you tried busting down the door. How hungry are you? I know you usually eat ten times what a human eats, but if you're not feeling well-"

"Pizza's fine," Vegeta interjected.

Bulma nodded and put it in the microwave. When Vegeta stood up, she nearly yelled at him to sit back down. She shut her mouth quickly though, realising he was steady enough on his feet. He sat down on a barstool at the kitchen bench and pushed his empty tea cup towards her.

"A please would be nice," Bulma muttered, taking his cup and refilling it. "Do you like it?" She asked as Vegeta took another sip. The teacup looked ridiculously dainty in his large hand and as he raised his arm to drink his muscles rippled. Kami, he should have been illegal.

Vegeta appeared to cock his head thoughtfully at the question, but instead of replying, just gave a shrug.

"I don't know how you've managed to go six months here without my mother pouring green tea down your throat," Bulma said. "She's always going on about the health benefits. She might be right because it looks like you've got some of your colour back."

"I avoid that woman like a _schielfelkala_ ," Vegeta said.

"What's a _schie... schielfel..."_

 _"Schielfelkala."_ Vegeta waved his hand in what she thought was a dismissive gesture, but as he spoke again she realised he was struggling to find the words to explain. "It's an long, slimy creature that..." He tapped on the kitchen bench in apparent annoyance. "It has a large round mouth with lots of rows of teeth. It's like a very large..." He tapped the table again then snapped his fingers in an oddly human gesture that Bulma couldn't help but find endearing. "It's like a worm."

"A worm? As in..." Bulma made a wriggling motion with her finger.

"Yes." Vegeta shuddered. "But a hundred times bigger than me."

"Did they live on your home planet?" Bulma asked, regretting the question immediately, as Vegeta's face hardened.

"No."

The microwave dinged, and Bulma jumped. "I'll get that out," she said hurrying towards the microwave.

"I'm not hungry." Vegeta stood abruptly, nearly knocking over the bar stool.

"But you were the one who..."

Before Bulma could finish her argument, Vegeta turned around and left the room, not looking back as he closed the door behind him.

"Oh well," Bulma said with a sigh. "More pizza for me."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling. Please R &R!**

Vegeta's stomach snarled at him, furious at his hasty exit. He'd bolted out of the kitchen as fast as he could, horrified at how fifteen minutes with that woman and her cool, smooth hands and gentle touch, and incessant babbling had him... well, he wasn't sure what. Disoriented? Confused? Either way, he had to stay far away from her.

The problem was, he couldn't get her scent off him. It was light and floral and invaded his nostrils with every breath. After lying on his back on the bed for ten minutes he growled and tried to stand up. It had taken him all his energy just to get back to his room, but he couldn't stand that smell any longer. Gripping furniture and the wall for support, Vegeta dragged himself to the shower to wash off whatever it was that had infected his thoughts.

 _Maybe it was the tea_ , he mused as he unwrapped his bandages. Yes, that was it. She'd put something in his tea. There wasn't any other explanation. Because it couldn't possibly just be _her_.

* * *

"Would you like some eggs, dear?" The blonde woman started to fry some up without waiting for a response. "You look a little peaked today, have you been training too hard?"

Vegeta bared his teeth in response, focusing on the pile of sausages, bacon and fried potatoes that she'd served before him.

"You should have some green tea. That will have you back in good health in no time. Hmm, or maybe some chamomile. You seem tense. Have you been sleeping badly again? Here let me make you a cup."

"No." Vegeta suppressed a shudder.

"My Bulma had trouble sleeping for months after Namek you know." Mrs Briefs added five eggs to his plate, topping up his bacon at the same time. "Let me know if you change your mind."

Vegeta rolled his eyes in annoyance, then shut them in bliss as the yolk from an egg burst in his mouth. The blonde was more irritating than the other woman but comets above, her food was a masterpiece.

Dr Briefs came in, kissing his wife on the cheek as he stole a piece of bacon from the cooling frypan. "Delicious as always, my dear," he murmured.

The blonde giggled at that and Vegeta tried not to gag on his food.

"Ah, my boy," Dr Briefs said, frowning at Vegeta.

Vegeta scowled back at the endearment. He hadn't been anyone's _boy_ in a very long time.

"Bulma mentioned the bots are in need of repair again. I'm in the middle of a client project so bring them to Bulma's lab today. She'll take a look at them for you." Dr Briefs glanced down at Vegeta's bruised hands. "I've asked her to add an automatic kill switch to them based on your life signs. Can't have them killing you. Bad for business, you know."

"A hunk of metal can't do any permanent damage to _me_ ," Vegeta said, pushing back his plate and standing. The movement made the wound in his side twinge, and he winced, a reaction that didn't go unnoticed by the Doctor. Dr Briefs didn't say anything though and merely cocked an eyebrow in Vegeta's direction. Vegeta huffed and stomped out of the room towards the GR.

Once inside the GR, Vegeta surveyed the damage. The three bots looked more like scrap metal than machines, with debris scattered around the room. Smears of blood decorated the control panel, including a very clear hand print by the emergency off button.

Crimson blood had pooled near the foot of the control panel, and Vegeta lifted his shirt to inspect his wound, realising it must have been deeper than he'd thought. He hadn't bothered bandaging it again after his shower the night before, knowing his Saiyan genes would heal it fine. While the skin had begun to heal over, it was still raw and the scorch marks around the red scar were particularly vicious. Of course, he'd had much worse, even excluding the hole in his chest that had temporarily ended his life. Vegeta wasn't a stranger to injuries, or scars for that matter, and since what didn't kill him quite literally made him stronger each time, he was happy to put up with the ache in his side.

He scooped up what he could of the bots, kicking the door open to haul them across the yard. Bulma's lab was across the compound. As he approached, Vegeta focussed on her ki, using it to guide him in the right direction since he couldn't actually see where he was going through the crumpled metal in his arms.

"Am I the only one around here who has a brain?" Bulma's voice rang out through the long corridor as Vegeta approached. "Kami above, I left clear instructions that the density of the alloy needed to be... oh for the love of... No! Don't try and increase it!"

Vegeta stepped through the doorway sideways to fit through with the bots, then dumped them on the ground, enjoying the crashing sound the made. Bulma didn't look up from her desk, where she was scribbling notes with one hand, and holding the cellphone she was still shouting into with the other.

"Keep the stable temperature at three fifty, and don't get any more bright ideas in the meantime." Her hair was pulled back in a rough pony tail and even Vegeta could tell that she'd buttoned up her lab coat wrong. Clearly her day wasn't going much better than his training had last night. Still, there was no reason to _ignore_ him. Vegeta cleared his throat impatiently.

"No, adding more silver will _not_ fix it! What did I just say? No bright ideas."

Vegeta opened his mouth to yell at her for her. Then he noticed the whiteboard beside her desk. It was covered in a complex equation. It was written in blue in her messy scrawl, with red notations throughout it that appeared to be trying to solve it. He didn't particularly care about her work normally, but there was something about the formula that looked familiar... Vegeta stepped forward to take a closer look, but his foot hit one of the more complete bots.

It rolled across the floor towards Bulma. She swivelled in her chair and put her foot out to stop it before it hit her desk. "I'll be there in twenty minutes. Make sure whoever fucked this up is there when I arrive." She hung up her phone and finally looked up at him. "Don't start with me today. I'll get to the bots. Go train in the GR without them or go blow up a mountain or something - I don't care which - just stay out of my way... no not one damn word from you Vegeta or so help me I will rip the control panel out of the GR for a week." And with that she swept out of the room.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting - I was moving house, and then I got sick! This is a Bulma light chapter, but don't worry, more V/B chapters are coming!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A** **/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling. Please RR!**

She was surrounded by idiots. How was it possible that at a company like her father's, with each employee usually having at least one doctorate, that no one could manage the simplest experiment without her? Bulma stormed into her private lab and threw herself into her chair, rubbing her throbbing temples. It had taken her hours to clean up the mess and get the experiment back on track. Of course, it would all be worth it in the end. The creation of a metal alloy that was as flexible as tinfoil, yet as strong as steel would revolutionise things. If she ever got that damn formula for the GR working, her work on the alloy might benefit.

With a deep sigh, Bulma spun her chair towards the whiteboard. She'd stared at the problem so many times in the last few weeks, each time hoping for an epiphany, as if the answer would just fall onto her lap.

Hold on... Bulma frowned at the board. Someone had written notes on it with a green marker. She stood up, peering at them to make sense of the tiny, cramped handwriting. The notes were effectively another variation to her draft formula. But they... Kami, it was just a few tweaks, but the logic and precision behind them was brilliant. Genius even. Whoever wrote this had not only solved what had appeared to be an impossible math problem, but had also run it through with the exact figures she needed to balance the increase of gravity with increased support in the GR's structure. And beyond that, this formula would help with a host of other projects, most importantly the creation of her new metal alloy.

Who on earth had solved it? The handwriting didn't look like her father's. Maybe one of the technicians? Deciding to find out who had given her the key later, Bulma started scrawling ideas on a piece of paper to prepare for tomorrow's metal alloy experiment. This was going to change everything...

* * *

Hours later, Bulma's hand had cramp, her back ached, and the clock in the living room closest to the kitchen chimed two in the morning as she entered. The kitchen light was on with the smell of soy sauce permeating the air. Feeling her stomach grumble, Bulma wandered into the kitchen.

Vegeta sat at the breakfast bar, eating noodles with chopsticks in one hand, and staring at a device in his other hand. He must have just showered because his hair was still damp. He wore a black t-shirt and slacks that made him look so ordinary as he sat there, swinging his legs back and forth as he stared at the screen.

"That smells amazing, is there any left?" Bulma didn't wait for Vegeta's reply and started scooping some noodles from the wok on the cooktop into a bowl for herself. She slurped up some noodles and grinned as Vegeta looked up with a frown. "This is good. Did you cook it? You'd better watch out, if my mother gets the idea that you are a better cook than me she'll drag you into the kitchen every day to cook for everyone."

"That would not be hard."

"What, cooking for everyone?"

"No." Vegeta smirked at her. "Being a better cook than you."

"Oh! You..." Bulma scowled, picked up a piece of red pepper from her bowl, and threw it at his head.

Vegeta caught it, his smirk turning into a genuine grin, and he popped the pepper in his mouth.

"What are you doing up anyway?" Bulma asked between mouthfuls. She wasn't kidding, if Vegeta had cooked it, he'd done a great job. "I would have thought by not you'd have got used to Earth's day and night routine."

Vegeta shrugged. "I don't sleep much."

"Is that a Saiyan thing or a Vegeta thing?"

Vegeta pressed his lips together and looked back at the tablet in his hand. When she realised she wasn't going to get an answer, Bulma put her now empty bowl in the sink and stood behind Vegeta to look over his shoulder. "What are you doing? Are you looking up cute kitten videos? There's a great one of this cat and these birds-"

"I'm not watching stupid videos!"

"I can see that," Bulma said with a grin. She was close enough now to realise it was an e-reader in his hand, not a tablet. "What are you reading?"

Vegeta turned to look at her. He eyed her suspiciously for a moment before replying. " _The Art of War_."

Bulma blinked. That did sound like it was up his alley. "Sun Tzu. What do you think of it?"

"It's short. And the author clearly has too much faith in the idea that a General cares about the people fighting for him. I enjoyed _The History of the Peloponnesian War_ more. It had interesting tactics."

"Of course _you'd_ find books like them interesting. Did my father get you onto them?"

"Your mother, actually." Vegeta laughed when Bulma raised her eyebrows. "I know. I was as surprised as you. She also recommended something called Pride and Prejudice. She seemed to think I'd relate to the Mr Dar... Mr whatever. But I read the first page and I get the feeling it was her idea of a joke."

Bulma laughed loudly, clutching her stomach. "She _would_ think you are like Mr Darcy. All bad tempered and brooding. You should try the Pride Prejudice and Zombies version. Lots of blood and gore. You'd love it."

"What are zombies?"

"Seriously? You've never heard of zombies? Oh sorry, don't look at me like that." Bulma rolled her eyes at Vegeta's offended expression. "I forget you are an alien sometimes. Zombies are undead creatures that feed on human brains."

"There are creatures like that on Earth?" Vegeta set down his bowl and e-reader. Finally something interesting on this planet."

"They're not... never mind. Come with me. It's time you were introduced to some of the best zombies Earth has to offer."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Bulma kept glancing to her right to reassure herself that Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans, was indeed sitting on the couch beside her, watching _Night of the Living Dead_. That he'd deigned to stay at all was surprising. The fact that he was staring intently at the screen, completely engrossed was nothing short of a miracle.

"Why is there no colour on the screen?" Vegeta asked. "Surely this 'blood and gore' you speak of would look better if it had some colour to distinguish blood from brain juices."

"Gross!" Bulma slapped his arm, grinning as Vegeta turned to give her an incredulous look. "It's an old film. When it was made the technology for colour wasn't available. They released a colourised version eventually and even did a remake a while back, but I prefer the original."

Vegeta grunted in response, and sank back into the couch. It was a large couch, and there was enough room to fit another person between them, but even so every time Vegeta moved she felt slightly on edge. She had watched the film a dozen times, and hadn't felt scared during it since the third watch, but when something jumped out at Ben on screen, Bulma jumped.

"I came across several planets where devouring brains was considered to be quite a delicacy," Vegeta said, turning a wicked grin on her. "It's supposed to allow the devourer to retain the strengths of that person. I bet your brains would be in high demand, with you being a _genius_ and all."

Bulma shuddered. "A zombie with _my_ brain would have taken over the world in days."

Vegeta shuffled slightly closer to her and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I bet they would taste delicious."

Bulma let out a shriek and shoved him away from her. "You are evil, Vegeta."

"That's what I've been telling everyone," he replied.

"Hmm." Bulma threw him a disbelieving glance. "Do you want some popcorn?

Vegeta's eyes lit up. "With the butter and the white powdery stuff?"

"Icing sugar? Sure." Bulma stood up, giggling to herself as she put the popcorn in the microwave. "Yes, he's _so_ evil."


	6. Chapter 6

**A** **/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling. Please R and R!**

Bulma yawned, the pile of paperwork blurring in front of her. She and Vegeta had gotten into something of a routine, both ending up in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning, eating together, then watching a gory movie.

Last night they'd moved away from zombies. The night before they'd watched _I Am Legend_ , and Vegeta's eyes were suspiciously shiny during a particular scene that involved a dog. Bulma had bawled her eyes out, so she couldn't exactly make fun of him, tempting as it was. When the film finished, he asked her to pick something that wasn't full of 'sentimental rubbish' next time. So she picked 300. No zombies, but she figured Vegeta's interest in the Peloponnesian War would mean he'd enjoy it. Plus, it had no sentiment, plenty of gore, and Gerard Butler's abs. The perfect movie, really.

All the late nights were catching up on her though. Vegeta seemed to wake up at 6.30am no matter what time he'd gone to bed, but Bulma found herself crawling into the lab later and later each morning. Deciding that paperwork could wait for at least three more coffees, Bulma hauled the bot onto her workbench. She'd fixed the other two a few days ago, but this one was giving her problems with its electrics.

"Is it fixed yet?"

Bulma jumped and turned to see Vegeta leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed against his bare chest. She clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Haven't you heard of wearing clothes? There's lots of dangerous chemicals in the labs, you could get hurt." Bulma flushed, her words sounding ridiculous even to her own ears. "And no, this one isn't fixed yet. I'm working on it, but I have better things to do than slave away over everything you break."

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "And what 'better things' do you have to do?"

"I have important work you know! I'm Vice President of this company, and am about to make a breakthrough in a metal alloy, and I..." Bulma trailed off, suddenly realising that Vegeta had, in a very roundabout way, asked what she was working on. Something that Yamcha had never shown the slightest interest in. Not that she was comparing Vegeta to Yamcha. That would be _crazy_. And so... she trailed her gaze up and down Vegeta's body, lingering on his abs... so inappropriate. But hot damn... Bulma cleared her throat as Vegeta's brow creased in puzzlement. "I'm sure you can survive with two, but I'll have the last bot fixed today."

"You'd better," Vegeta said. He seemed distracted though, his tone lacking its usual sharpness. His gaze was fixed on the whiteboard, which contained the same formula as before, rewritten with the corrections and some new numbers more suitable for the alloy.

"It was considered to be an impossible mathematical equation until recently," Bulma said.

"And I suppose _you_ solved it?"

"Well, uh... actually, no. Come to think of it, I never did track down who gave me the solution." Bulma frowned, racking her brain for who it could have been. "It's a pity, because it would be nice to know there was someone working here who was actually competent."

"Other than you," Vegeta said dryly.

"Of course," Bulma grinned at him. "I can't help if my brilliance makes everyone else look slow by comparison."

"Not to mention your modesty. It's unequivocal."

"Yes well, if you have it, flaunt it," Bulma threw back, tossing a wink in his direction and laughing when it made him flush. "Did you want something else or did you just come over for my company?"

Vegeta sighed and stepped into the room, handing her a piece of paper. "Your mother wants to order groceries. Add what you want to the list and take it back to her." He started to leave the room.

"Can't you wait five minutes and take it to her for me?" Bulma asked.

"Don't be lazy. You could use the exercise." Vegeta said, then ducked as she threw a pen at his head.

"Ugh, you jerk."

Vegeta just laughed. "I'll leave you to your 'brilliance'."

Bulma let out a sigh and started scribbling down her grocery requests. She giggled when she saw that Vegeta had added 'popcorn with butter and icing sugar' to the list.

She was about to take the list up to her mother when something made her pause. In addition to popcorn, Vegeta had requested several meat items including steak and bacon, but it was his _handwriting_ , not the items that made her take a second look. While neat and tidy, his letters were small and cramped together like he was in a rush to get them on the page. She didn't think she'd ever seen him write anything down before, but it looked so familiar.

On a hunch, Bulma pulled out her phone and pulled up the picture she'd taken of the whiteboard before she'd rubbed it off to rework it. She set her phone down and leaned back in her chair, feeling breathless. The handwriting was definitely a match. Somehow, that arrogant, pigheaded alien who spent all his free time either training to kill the androids, or plotting to kill Goku, had solved a math problem that all of Earth's mathematicians and scientists combined - including her - hadn't managed to solve.

"Well..." Bulma said aloud, staring at the doorway Vegeta had just walked out of. "That's certainly an interesting development."


	7. Chapter 7

**A** **/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling. Please R and R!**

His hands were covered in slick, oozing blood. It dripped from them onto the stark, white tiled floor, creating red splatter patterns that reminded him of snowflakes.

Something hit Vegeta from behind, colliding with his left side and throwing him across the room. Once he skidded to a stop, Vegeta tried to stand, but slipped in the blood pooling around him.

"Hello, my pet." Frieza's voice curled around him, holding him in place. Vegeta's chest tightened and he struggled to suck in a breath as a purple hand reached out and caressed his cheek. Whimpering, Vegeta managed to scramble backwards on all fours, but hit a wall, the metal cold against his bare back.

"You're dead," he spat out, but the cruel gaze staring back at him said otherwise. Vegeta squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm dreaming."

"It doesn't matter," Frieza replied. His tail slithered out and wrapped itself around Vegeta's neck, raising him off the ground and slamming him back against the wall. "Dead or alive, you are still mine."

"No!" Vegeta awoke with a gasp and sat up.

His hand shook as he struggled to find the switch on the lamp. Light flooded the room, and Vegeta checked every corner for any sign of the monster. With a sigh, Vegeta let himself fall back on the bed and concentrated on breathing in and out until the trembling stopped and his heartbeat slowed.

He stared at his hands. They were covered in the usual cuts and scraped from training, but the blood was mostly inside his body. Vegeta frowned, trying to work out if it was his blood or someone else's he'd been covered in during his dream. Not that it mattered, because that's all it was. A dream. Or a nightmare.

The problem was, he'd been having them almost every night (or day depending on when his body dropped from exhaustion) since he'd been wished back to life. The only nights he didn't have them were the ones where he didn't sleep.

Vegeta clenched his fist, then slowly uncurled it, placing his hand over his chest in the place Frieza had put a hole through. He'd stopped shaking and now he just felt... empty. It was becoming a problem, this emptiness. He carried it with him constantly, attempting to use his drive to defeat Kakorot to fight it. But even the idea of becoming the legendary Super Saiyan held little appeal, if he was being completely truthful. It was just the only thing that got him up each day. The only thing that gave him the slightest glimmer of something other than apathy.

Well, almost the only thing...

Vegeta glanced at the clock. One in the morning. He sat up and swung his legs off the bed, willing himself to stand. He pulled on a t-shirt and sweatpants and made his way to the kitchen, feeling a little lighter. It was the food he wanted, and the mild distraction of watching other people's lives go to shit. It was certainly _not_ the company of the blue haired woman. That he merely tolerated.

* * *

"What's cooking?" Bulma wandered in and sat down on a bar stool, spinning it around in a circle before throwing her head onto her arms on the kitchen bench. "It smells so good!"

"Food," Vegeta replied, continuing to stir the rice in the wok while reading the rest of the chapter of his latest book.

"How can you cook without looking? Aren't you worried it will burn?"

Vegeta rolled his eyes, but didn't look up from the e-reader. "I have a sense of smell." Only two more pages to go. If only she'd waited three more minutes to arrive and start blabbering.

"What are you reading?"

With a sigh, Vegeta put the e-reader down and looked at her. Her curly hair was pulled back into a pony tail, but it had started to come loose, creating a cloud of blue around her face. She smiled at him like he was the most important being on earth, instead of the monster he really was.

"Well?" Bulma asked when he didn't reply.

" _How to win friends and influence people_ ," Vegeta said, adding some extra soy sauce to the wok and giving the pan a shake to toss the stir fry.

Bulma burst out into peals of laughter that echoed through the large kitchen. "Are you serious? Oh Kami, that's hilarious, let me see." She snatched the e-reader from the counter and peered at it. " _It_ , by Stephen King." She started laughing again. "You fibber! Vegeta, I think I've discovered your biggest secret."

"I highly doubt that," Vegeta muttered under his breath.

"You, your royal highness," Bulma said, pointing her finger in his direction, "have a great sense of humour."

"Yes, my humour is what I'm known around the universe for." He raised his wooden spoon like a sword in the air. "Vegeta, Prince of Saiyans, Destroyer of Planets... and part-time comedian."

Bulma kept grinning like an idiot, so Vegeta scowled at her. It came with a glare that had sent trained soldiers running, but it only made her smile wider. "Can I help with the cooking? I'm _starving_. When will it be ready?"

"No, you cannot help!" Vegeta moved the wok away from her protectively. "I want this to be edible!"

Bulma pouted at him. "But I'm _hungry_..." she said, dragging out the last word into five syllables.

Vegeta added some bean sprouts into the pan and gave it a final stir before serving it up. He took the stool beside Bulma and they sat there in relative silence, finally allowing Vegeta to finally finish the chapter.

He could see Bulma glancing at him every few mouthfuls out of the corner of his eye, but it the fact that he could _feel_ it burning through him that irritated him.

"What?" He snapped finally, turning to glare at her. "What about my face is so damn interesting?"

Bulma shrugged awkwardly. "Nothing... I mean it's a nice face and all but I don't know if I'd call it 'interesting'. Handsome maybe, although I suppose your eyes are interesting. There so much darker than anyone else on earth. Are they actually black? Most eyes that dark are still brown but yours seem black. It's probably the one thing that makes you seem alien. You know, other than your super strength and lack of knowledge of Earth customs. Have you finished eating? I found a copy of _Pride Prejudice and Zombies_ and we should watch that. It's got plenty of gore and I'll make us some popcorn. Here, let me take your plate."

"But I'm-" Vegeta started to protest but Bulma snatched his bowl away. "-not finished..." Vegeta shook his head in exasperation. "Humans are so weird."

* * *

Bulma couldn't help throwing surreptitious glances in Vegeta's direction as they sat on the couch watching the movie. Had he really solved that math problem? It wasn't that she'd ever call Vegeta unintelligent. Unlike Goku who got through most battles on brawn, determination and shear luck, Bulma had heard from the others that Vegeta's skills in tactics were unmatched. And she'd born witness to his calculating logic several times, none more so than when they threw barbs at each other. But even so... a mathematical genius? And one smarter than her?

"I don't see the appeal of this Darcy character," Vegeta said. "And I don't think he's anything like me."

On screen, Mr Darcy lopped off a zombie's head and moved onto the next one with barely a change in his rather bored looking facial expression.

"You don't think so?" Bulma took a handful of popcorn and begun chewing it contemplatively. "He lives for the battle, vanquishes his enemies and does it all with a scowl whilst refusing to admit that he might actually like someone." Vegeta glared at her and she batted her eyelashes. "You're only proving my point," she said, stretching out languorously on the couch so that her feet ended up in Vegeta's lap.

To her infinite surprise, Vegeta looked at her feet and frowned, but didn't push them off. "He doesn't live for battle though." Vegeta took a handful of popcorn and crunched away before continuing. "Look at his face. He's good at what he does and has impressive tactics, I'll admit, but he doesn't enjoy it. Not like the girl. She loves smashing in zombie heads."

"Hmm." Bulma frowned at the screen, watching Mr Darcy's fluid movements as he ducked under one zombie to skewer another. "You might be right. I mean Mr Darcy is swoon worthy and you're..." she waved her hand, gesturing to him.

"I've had lots of people faint when they see me, thank you." Vegeta placed a hand on his chest in mock-offense. "Mostly in terror of course. But Mr Darcy is _boring_ ," Vegeta said wrinkling his nose so that a little crinkled appeared between his eyes that Bulma couldn't help but think was adorable. "He doesn't enjoy the fight, so how can he enjoy anything else in life?"

"You're right," Bulma said. "He's probably terrible in bed."

Vegeta choked on the popcorn and started coughing. "That's not what I meant!"

"Isn't it?" Bulma asked innocently, wiggling her toes in Vegeta's lap.

Vegeta turned bright red, shoved her feet off and stood up, grabbing the bowl of popcorn. "I'm going to make more," he muttered, stomping off.

Bulma put her feet back up on the couch and stretched out, grinning to herself. Vegeta, smarter than her? She didn't think so.

 **A/N: The chapters are coming in fast at the moment because I'm on a roll. Hopefully I can maintain that! Let me know what you think of this chapter - I had fun writing it although all this talk of them eating together keeps making me hungry...**


	8. Chapter 8

**A** **/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling. Please R and R!**

Bulma and Vegeta had an unspoken agreement not to talk about their night-time activities during the day. In fact, when they saw each other in daylight hours they made a point of throwing insults at each other, especially if someone else was in listening distance.

Bulma didn't have a problem with it - if anything, it made the meals and movies they shared seem special. Although the idea of sharing something 'special' with a murderous alien prince was a little worrying. Or should have been. But somehow wasn't... Bulma decided not to analyse that one too closely. Either way, not talking about food and movie club wasn't the problem. The _problem_ was that she had a date tonight. And if the date went well... there'd be no food and movie with Vegeta. But how in Kami's name was she going to let him know? And would he even care?

Bulma chewed on the end of her pen. Yes, he would care, even if he didn't show it. He might not admit it, and probably wouldn't even if Frieza himself was torturing him, but Vegeta was lonely - just as lonely as her. Probably more, since he literally had no one else. No family, no friends, not even a planet to call his own. He _had_ to be lonely. Bulma couldn't stand the idea of being that alone. She'd go mad. Vegeta might be used to being alone but he was still a... well, not a human, but a person. With feelings, deep, _deep_ down. Somewhere. Maybe.

Bulma sighed and threw her pen on her desk. They often crossed paths at lunch. He rarely missed a meal if her mother was cooking. Despite being a perfectly adequate cook himself, he hadn't let that on to her mother and she wasn't about to spill his secret less he stop cooking for her at night. Yes, that was it. She'd mention it at lunch.

* * *

"I have a date tonight," Bulma blurted out. She closed her eyes as she felt her cheeks burn up. Kami, that was _so_ subtle. She heard Vegeta pause in his eating beside her, but kept her gaze forward.

"Oh sweetie, that's great news!" Bulma's mother clapped her hands together. "Who's the lucky guy... is it Vegeta?"

"What?" Bulma and Vegeta cried in unison.

"Don't be ridiculous," Vegeta said, growling under his breath.

"No Mother, where on earth did you get that idea from? It's with a friend of Kelly's. We've met a few times for drinks with friends and he asked me out." Bulma snuck a glance at Vegeta, who was staring intently at his food while taking large bites that took ages to chew. "It isn't serious, but I haven't been out since Yamcha and I broke up. It might be fun, so uh... don't wait up." She looked at Vegeta as she said the last part, but he didn't show any sign of listening.

"I'm sure it will be dear. Where are you going?"

Bulma and her mother spent the next few minutes talking about the date, until even Bulma started to feel excited about it. It _would_ be fun. And it wasn't like Vegeta would ever take her on a date. _Not_ that she wanted him to. Definitely not. She couldn't even picture it in her mind. Where would he take her? Off planet to conquer an alien race for the evening? Kami, why was she even thinking about that? No, she was going on this date and she was having a fun night out. No apocalypse, no boy from the future, no androids... and definitely no Saiyans.

* * *

Vegeta didn't want to admit it in front of Bulma and her mother, but he didn't actually know _what_ a date was. As he did a warm up of push ups in two hundred times Earth's gravity, he pondered exactly what she'd meant. He gathered that a date was some kind of courting ritual, but what exactly did it involve? Was it a special ceremony, or some kind of dance? Or was it just a euphemism for sex? The woman used to go on dates with Yamcha, and he knew they also had sex, because she would often come home with his scent all over her.

Vegeta gagged at the thought, and rolled over to start his sit ups. She'd told him not to wait up, but he had no intention of changing his routine. What was he supposed to do instead? Sleep? Vegeta scoffed at the thought. But if Bulma came home smelling of a random guy, Vegeta would... he would... do nothing. Vegeta paused his sit ups and lay on the floor of the GR. Yes, he wouldn't do anything because he didn't care what Bulma did, because he didn't care about _her_. Didn't he?

Four hours later, which had been spent training and most definitely _not_ thinking about a particular blue-haired woman having sex with a faceless stranger, and Vegeta was ready to take his workout up to the next level.

Trembling from the effort, sweat dripping off his hands and onto the console, Vegeta pressed the button the increase the gravity from two hundred and fifty, to three hundred. The GR whirred and Vegeta began to feel the effect of the added gravity buckle his knees. And then the lights went out and the gravity fell to zero, making Vegeta fall over from the change.

"What the..." Vegeta scrambled to his feet and peered at the console. He tried tapping the gravity button again, but nothing happened. Swearing under his breath in three different alien languages, Vegeta stomped his way to Bulma's lab.

"Woman!" He shouted as he entered. "The damn gravity room is broken again. I need you to..." He trailed off as he realised that despite sensing her ki, he couldn't see her. "Bulma?"

"I'm here... oh shit, ouch!" Bulma crawled out from under her desk, rubbing her head. "Found them!" She said, triumphantly holding up a pair of red heels.

Vegeta pressed his lips together to avoid gaping at her. Bulma was wearing a short, red dress that hugged her curves. She'd done her hair in a cloud of curls and painted her face. A date had to mean sex, Vegeta decided.

"I need you to fix the GR," Vegeta tried again, clearing his throat so he didn't sound like a croaky teenage human.

"Not today!" Bulma said, sitting on her office chair to pull on her shoes. "I have a date, remember?"

Vegeta looked her up and down and raised an eyebrow. "And that is what one wears on a date?"

Bulma stood up and smoothed her dress. "If one wants to have a good time," she said with a wink. "See you later, Vegeta!" She walked out of the room with a backwards wave of her hand that left Vegeta reeling.

"What am I supposed to do now?" He grumbled. He sat in her office chair and spun around like he'd seen her do hundreds of times before. The whiteboard had a new mathematical equation on it, unsolved again. It was a complicated problem, with lots of variables the conflicted with one another. Bulma didn't seem to have an obvious use for it that would improve the GR or anything else to do with his training, so Vegeta really shouldn't bother...

Vegeta's fingers itched. He slowly reached for a pen and paper, tapping the desk with the pen several times before giving in and leaning towards to whiteboard to take a closer look. At least it was something to do.

 **A/N: Another one done! I have ideas for the next two chapters, so expect them up in the next day or two. Thank you for all of your reviews so far - they are motivating me to keep writing so please keep them coming!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A** **/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling. Please review!**

Vegeta stared at the recipe in front of him, squinting at the words in front of him as if it would make things clearer. He'd become quite adept at reading the local language with thanks to the e-reader that defined any words he wasn't sure of. In fact, he was proud of the fact that he hadn't needed to look up one word in the last two books he'd read. But this? It was like it was in a whole other language.

"What the fuck is a tsp?" Vegeta scowled at the recipe book, mentally demanding that it gave him answers. The book, being paperback and nonverbal, didn't reply.

With a sigh, Vegeta gave up on the instructions and started sniffing ingredients and adding them to the pots based on pure hunches. It was how he'd always cooked anyway.

Cooking wasn't something the Prince of all Saiyans should know how to do, but Vegeta had picked up on it quickly. Years spent with Nappa throwing together food on alien planets taught him that in some things it was better just to do it himself. Vegeta shuddered, remembering the concoction Nappa cooked up on the planet Veryse. It was an eel-like creature that tasted so awful, Nappa had just drowned it in salt. That hadn't helped.

At least his current attempt at pasta sauce was smelling good. Vegeta stirred it and had a tentative taste. It was missing something... Vegeta spotted the white wine he'd pulled out. The recipe had said optional. Vegeta had a sniff, then poured some into a glass and had a sip. Interesting flavour. Fruity, yet a little bitter. And very warm going down. He poured some into the pot and tried the sauce again. Vegeta raised his brows, impressed with his own work. It wasn't bad.

It was also much easier to cook without the woman nattering away at him. Vegeta closed his eyes and enjoyed the silence. Yes, he didn't need her. Without her presence, he was peaceful. Zen. Also, a little bored, but that was _only_ because he was in-between books, and _not_ because he missed her company.

When he'd deemed the pasta and the sauce to be ready, Vegeta pulled out two bowls and started serving. He hissed under his breath when he realised what he'd done out of habit, then put one bowl back. As he sat there, enjoying his pasta (which was almost as good as something Mrs Briefs would have cooked) Vegeta realised that before coming to Earth he hadn't had a proper cooked meal alone in his life. Snacks sure. He raided the cupboards for those on a regular basis. But even before Namek, every meal was either had in the mess hall on Frieza's ship, or with his squad on alien planets. And when travelling alone in his pod, which was the only time Vegeta ever really got to be alone, he survived on freeze-dried rations.

Vegeta frowned as he poured himself a full glass of the wine. The drink was clearly alcoholic, although not particularly strong, and he hadn't had a drink like that in years. He really should be enjoying this alone time more. But it seemed that this, like almost everything else in his existence, was tainted by that odd emptiness.

He used to feel a constant anger - mostly towards Frieza, but also against the universe in general. It drove him to push himself well beyond his normal limits, all with the goal of one day defeating Frieza, avenging his people, and taking his rightful place in the universe. Instead, that low-class idiot Karkarot did the avenging at Vegeta's begging, Frieza was killed by a mere boy, and he, Prince of all Saiyans was stuck on this mudball in a backwater part of the universe.

Vegeta prodded his food miserably. "Fuck it," he said aloud. Then he stood and went to search the cupboards for something stronger than wine.

* * *

Jason was a nice guy. He opened doors for Bulma, pulled out her chair, and make polite small talk that attempted to get her to talk about herself. He was also good looking - tall and fit (although not built like any of the martial arts masters Bulma usually hung out with), and had golden brown hair that flopped over his forehead so he had to keep pushing it out of his eyes. She should have been over the moon. Instead, Bulma found herself picking at her food and feeling strangely tongue tied.

"I heard you went on sabbatical in Nepal last year?" Jason said, giving her a smile that went to his brown doe-like eyes.

Bulma blinked, confused, then remembered that was the excuse for her being away when she was on Namek. "Oh yes. It was... an interesting experience. The people were..." Green? Alien? Hermaphrodites? "Unusual but very welcoming."

"What did you like best about the experience?"

Bulma took a bit of food to avoid answering. Not dying? That was definitely a highlight. "The landscape was beautiful," Bulma said finally. "But really, it wasn't that interesting. Tell me about yourself. Kelly said you own an investment company?"

Jason grinned, his eyes lighting up. "Yes, we invest in sustainable businesses." He started telling Bulma about all the different businesses he was investing in and Bulma let her mind wander whilst nodding politely.

She never should have gone out. After everything she'd been through on Namek she felt like she couldn't relate to normal people any more. Was this how Vegeta felt, being stuck around humans who didn't have a clue what life had been like for him? Not that he made it any easier on himself. Every time Bulma tried to get him to open up about his past he snapped at her, or clammed up completely and left the room. She couldn't imagine what he'd been through in his life. Bulma had a hard time on Namek, and adjusting once she was home was difficult, with nightmares plaguing her often. But Vegeta... he'd been taken from his home as a young boy and forced to work for that monster Frieza. No wonder he wasn't Mr Social. He probably had PTSD or something similar. She only knew a small part of what he lived through but how could he have been through that and not been affected?

"What are Capsule Corps sustainable practices like?" Jason asked, breaking Bulma's train of thought.

Bulma forced herself to smile and focus her attention on the very nice man in front of her. What was she doing, thinking about another man while out on a date with someone else? She would stop being rude and get through this date as politely, and as _quickly_ as possible.

 **A/N: This was a very "internal monologue" chapter. Let me know what you think please! I was going to add another scene but it might end up being long enough to be its own chapter so I thought I'd break it up to get this chapter out sooner. Stay tuned for the next chapter (and follow the story to stay up to date) - it won't be far away.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling. Please review!**

Bulma drove home slowly, relieved that she'd brought her own car so she didn't need to worry about any awkward at the door attempts from Jason to kiss her. He'd been a perfect gentleman all night, and hadn't flinched when she turned her head at the last minute as he leaned in to kiss her goodbye. He simply kissed her cheek as if that was what he'd planned all along, and wished her a good night, opening her car door for her.

The house was dark when she pulled up, although she could see a sliver of light coming from the living room. Feeling remarkably lighter, Bulma almost skipped through the door and headed to the living room.

Vegeta was sitting on the couch, a large bowl of pasta on his lap and a glass of what looked like whiskey on his hand. He smiled lazily at her as she entered. "Have fun?" His tone was slightly sarcastic and he didn't exactly slur his words but he drawled them out and he seemed more relaxed than Bulma had ever seen him.

Bulma kicked off her heels and threw herself on the couch beside him. "It was thrilling," she said, matching his tone. She grabbed the bowl off his lap and started eating, smirking at his affronted expression. "This is delicious. If becoming a Super Saiyan doesn't work out you definitely have a potential career as a chef."

Vegeta clicked his tongue in annoyance, but didn't lash back at her like he normally would have. Instead he tossed back the last of his drink, then poured himself another. Before he could drink from his glass again, Bulma plucked it from his hand and drank it herself.

Vegeta let out a low chuckle. "That bad?"

"It was nice... he was nice. But boring." Bulma finished the pasta and put the bowl on the side table. She sank back into the couch with a sigh. "He would have been terrible in bed."

"I thought that's what a date was," Vegeta said.

"What... sex?"

Vegeta just shrugged.

"Oh..." Bulma frowned. She supposed she shouldn't have assumed Vegeta understood exactly what a date was. Different planets probably did different things. "No, a date isn't about having sex, although it can lead to that. A date is where a couple go out romantically. Like... they might have dinner and watch a movie."

Vegeta was quiet for a while, then he shuffled in his seat so he was facing her. "I don't understand."

"Which part?"

"We have dinner and watch movies all the time."

Bulma wrinkled her nose. "Yes, but... it's not the same."

"So, we do not have 'dates'?" Vegeta asked.

"No. We are just..." Bulma paused, unsure of how to explain it. On the surface, they were doing things a couple that dated would do. "We are just friends. It's not the same."

"Friends," Vegeta said flatly. "I don't have friends."

Bulma laughed. "You do now. But what we do, it's different because it's not romantic."

Vegeta scratched the bridge of his nose. "So, if I kissed you we'd be on a date instead of this... friend thing."

"Um..." Bulma grimaced slightly. "I guess?"

Vegeta gave a little shrug and settled back against the sofa.

"Saiyans didn't date?" Bulma asked.

"I was a little young to know exactly what Saiyans did romantically speaking," Vegeta said. "My parents' marriage was arranged I think. They never acted like they liked each other's company anyway."

"You've never dated?" Bulma asked, nervous that he was going to react as usual and just leave. To her surprise, he seemed to consider the question.

"I didn't really get time to do much outside all the travelling and fighting and blowing up planets." Vegeta gave her a sideways smile. "I was never in one place for long enough to get to know people."

Bulma clicked her fingers, a thought suddenly occurring to her. "You know, since you technically died, you're like a born-again virgin."

"A... a what?" Vegeta asked, turning bright red.

"A born-again virgin. You died, you came back to life, all your sins forgiven, so you-" Bulma poked his arm playfully, "-are a virgin."

Vegeta sputtered in response, making Bulma burst out into laughter. "Unless you'd never had sex before and you were always a virgin," Bulma teased.

"Of course." Vegeta rolled his eyes at her and threw his hands in the air. "I destroyed planets and brutally murdered billions of people, but never had sex."

Bulma grinned back at him. "You know, if you are technically a virgin-"

"Argh, would you stop going on about that?" Vegeta said, scowling at her.

"-you're also technically not a murderer either. You haven't killed one person since you came back to life."

Vegeta threw his head back and laughed. "Is that what you think?"

Bulma blinked in surprise, suddenly unsure. "If you'd hurt anyone on Earth Goku would have stopped you."

"I haven't been on Earth this whole time, have I?" Vegeta pointed out.

"Oh." Bulma blushed and stared at her hands in her lap. "Who have you killed then?" She looked up at Vegeta through her eyelashes.

His face was impassive, and he let out a loud sigh before replying. "While I was travelling in space looking for your moronic friend, I stopped at every one of Frieza's bases and destroyed them. I killed everyone in charge and did whatever I had to in order to shut down the planetary sale trade so no one else could take it over." Vegeta paused, staring straight ahead. He crossed his arms before turning to look at her. "I killed a lot of people and I don't have a shred of remorse. If I had to do it again I would. And I'd enjoy doing it. You should be afraid of me. Half the universe is."

Bulma met his gaze and cocked her head, staring at him for a moment. He really didn't look like a psychotic murderer. He'd had something different in his eyes when she'd seen him on Namek, but something had changed since. She just couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was.

"Well," Bulma said, shifting on the couch so she was facing him. "You haven't killed anyone _innocent_ since you came back to life, and that has to count for something."

"I haven't killed anyone innocent," Vegeta conceded, uncrossing his arms. Then he leaned forward and bared his teeth at her. "Yet."

Bulma giggled and reached out to pat his cheek with her hand. "Yes, I'm _so_ scared of you, Vegeta."

Vegeta started at the touch, but didn't pull back, his expression shifting from mock anger to confusion. Bulma realised her hand was still on his face and she started to pull away, but Vegeta reached out and very gently wrapped his hand around her wrist. Her skin burned at the contact. He was so warm, but it was something else as well - like an electrical charge between them. Bulma's breath hitched and her eyes widened. He felt magnetic, like all she wanted to do was fall on top of him. It had to be the alcohol, but the pressure in her chest and the fluttering in her stomach said otherwise.

Vegeta stayed frozen, half leaning towards her. Bulma felt herself being drawn towards him. She inched forwards as well, almost closing the gap between them until she could feel his breath on her face.

It was Vegeta that made the final move, shifting forward and pressing his mouth against hers. The pressure was light but so warm it made her lips tingle. His thumb moved, caressing her wrist, and he remained ever so gentle, and so unlike his usual brash approach to everything. Bulma leaned into him, opening her mouth slightly to deepen the kiss. Vegeta groaned and threaded his other hand through her hair, kissing her back fiercely, all gentleness forgotten. He let go of her hand and placed his on her waist, pulling her closer then running his fingers up her back and over her neck, making her let out a soft moan.

He slowly pushed her back so she was lying on the couch and he was on top of her. His lips moved from her mouth to her neck to her collar bone and his hands... one was kneading the back of her neck and the other was on her leg, on her bare skin and making its way upwards towards the hem of her dress.

Bulma let out a gasp as Vegeta scraped his teeth against her skin and she realised he was certainly _not_ a virgin and oh Kami he was turning her insides and her brain to mush and all she wanted was _him_. She writhed under his weight, sliding her hands under his shirt and feeling the muscles of his back. Bulma whimpered as Vegeta moved his mouth lower and nibbled the skin at the top of her dress. One of his hands was now under her dress and on her thigh and he was moving his fingers upwards so slowly she wanted to scream.

When he re-threaded his fingers on his other hand through her hair and dragged them down her scalp, Bulma moved her head up towards him and kissed his neck, then bit down softly, making him growl.

"Vegeta," she whispered against his skin, arching her back to get closer still to hem.

He paused, stopping all movement. Even his breathing, which had been ragged, halted. He pushed off her suddenly and sat up, his black eyes wide and fathomless, his mouth partly open as if he was about to say something. Bulma stayed still, dishevelled and unsure.

"I..." Vegeta started breathing heavily, glancing around the room as if looking for an escape route. "This was a mistake." He stood up abruptly and started to walk away.

Bulma lunged forward and grabbed his arm. She could feel him trembling beneath her touch. "You can't... you can't kiss me like _that_ and then just leave!"

"Get your filthy, human hands off me," Vegeta said through gritted teeth.

Bulma recoiled like she'd been slapped. "You arrogant, narcissistic, monster!" She picked up a pillow and threw it at him, and when it just bounced off him, she grabbed her empty glass and hurled it at his head. Vegeta deflected it with his hand, the glass shattering on impact with shards of glass falling to the carpet.

"Stay away from me," Vegeta said quietly, before striding out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Bulma picked up the pillow with shaking hands and hugged it to her. Warm tears slid down her cheeks but she barely noticed them. What in Kami's name had just happened?

 **A/N: Finally! I've been wanting to write this scene for a while. But of course Vegeta has to go and muck things up... but why did he? You'll have to keep reading to find out! Let me know what you thought of this chapter by reviewing if you can! The next chapter will be up soon.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling. Please review!**

Bulma let herself cry for exactly twenty-two minutes. She hadn't cried for any longer when she broke up with Yamcha, so she wasn't going to do so for Vegeta of all people. Instead, Bulma dried her eyes, cleaned up the broken glass, and went to the one place guaranteed to distract her. Her lab.

Bulma was no stranger to throwing herself into work when she felt upset. After her last break up with Yamcha, she'd even made a few scientific breakthroughs because of her increased productivity and dedication. Who knew what breakthroughs she would make because of this little blip? And that's all Bulma would admit it was - a blip - because despite being an amazing kisser and making her body feel things that she didn't know were possible, Vegeta was still a world class jerk and not worth it being anything else.

She wandered towards her lab, opened the door and walked in, feeling better already. Yes, she would work on her alloy project, check the results of an experiment she'd set up yesterday, and maybe have a look at the tent fabric her father was working on to see if it was suitable for armour. Actually, no. Scrap that last one.

Bulma sat down on her office chair and started sorting through her paperwork. In the early hours of the morning, her lab was peaceful. It would be easy to get some work done and forget all about that damn Saiyan... Bulma stopped shuffling papers, frowning at another piece of paper sitting on the edge of her desk. She'd recognise that small, curved script anywhere. She'd studied it for long enough. Vegeta had written out the new mathematical equation from the white board. He'd made lots of notes around it, and started to solve it. At the bottom of the paper was a note that read, _It appears you aren't the only "genius" around here. Fix the GR and I'll finish this_.

Bulma could help but smile. He'd clearly written this while she was out on her date, and therefore before everything between them went sideways. But it was definitive proof that it was indeed Vegeta who had solved the first math problem and that maybe, just maybe, he cared a _little_ bit about her.

* * *

The dawn air was frigid, but Vegeta maintained his cross-legged position even as a cool wind whipped through the Capsule Corp garden. He'd caught a couple of hours of torture filled sleep that left him more tired than anything else. As usual, his dreams involved Frieza, who always appeared bigger than he had been in reality. This time, not only was Frieza playing cruel games with him, but he'd dragged a certain blue haired woman into it as well, torturing Bulma until Vegeta couldn't bear it anymore and begged - begged! - Frieza to stop.

Vegeta tried to clear his mind, and erase the vision of blue hair stained with blood. It was harder than usual, with a head that felt heavy from the alcohol. What a mistake that had been. He rarely drank before, knowing that lowered defences meant giving the enemy the upper hand should someone try to kill him. He hadn't expected Bulma to come home though - she'd told him not to wait up, after all. Having a drink (or three, maybe four...) had finally let him relax, and his mind slow.

He should have stuck to his rule.

Bulma might not have wanted to kill him (although perhaps she did now) but he felt like he'd been to war. He'd lost control - something that rarely happened to him - and it was terrifying.

Vegeta tried to concentrate on clearing his thoughts. He usually found meditation outside was a way to start the day and avoid injuries due to tiredness, and was hoping it would also work for... whatever he was feeling now.

Not that he minded getting hurt - that was all a part of training - but unnecessary wounds meant he couldn't train as well the following day. And Vegeta liked training almost as much as fighting. There was something satisfying about pushing himself to his limit, only to break that limit again and again. And who better to push Vegeta than himself? Kakarot aside (as if he would ever train with that idiot), no one on earth offered a challenge suitable for his strength, Super Saiyan or not.

But despite training daily, the elusive Super Saiyan form remained out of his grasp. Some days Vegeta was close. He could almost taste it - the air took on a bitter, electric scent, the fine hairs on his arm stood up, and his skin buzzed... but every time he felt like it was happening, it would all drain away, leaving him feeling like there was a hole where all of his drive and ambition had been.

Still, Vegeta kept training. After all, he had his pride, if nothing else.

"Vegeta, honey, you must be freezing out here!"

Vegeta groaned inwardly at the blonde woman's voice. And just as he'd emptied his mind of all thoughts too.

She came bustling over, gardening tools clanking against her bucket. "You really should wear a shirt if you are going to spend time out in the cold. Not that I'm complaining - you do improve the view." Mrs Briefs knelt at a garden bed to Vegeta's right and continued babbling, not seeming to care that Vegeta hadn't even opened his eyes. "It's such a nice morning too be one with nature, isn't it? Perfect for gardening too. After all, the early bird catches the worm. Oh look, there's one now!"

Vegeta cracked and eye open and saw Mrs Briefs dangling a slimy, wriggling creature. He took in a sharp breath and slowly stood up and began backing up.

"Worms are such wonderful creatures, don't you think? They might not look like much but they irrigate the earth and make all my flowers grow beautifully. Vegeta? Where are you going?"

Vegeta broke into a run towards the GR and slammed his hand on the entry panel to open the door. Once inside, he closed the door and leaned against it, finally letting out the shudder he'd been repressing.

If that woman had taken a liking to gardening in the mornings he was going to have to find a new spot to meditate. Somewhere far, far away.

* * *

Bulma heard the GR door open and close. She didn't hear any movement from Vegeta though, so she tightened the last bolt then rolled herself out from under the console on her mechanic's trolley. Vegeta was standing at the door, his back pressed against it. He was pale - an unusual look for someone with his tan skin tone. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, and his hair, which normally stuck up in a streamline peak, was dishevelled. If Bulma wasn't so angry about the stunt he pulled last night she'd feel sorry for him.

"I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from me." Vegeta growled slightly, baring his teeth like a wild dog. Yeah, Bulma didn't feel sorry for him.

"You look like crap," Bulma said, standing up and brushing grease off her hands and onto her already filthy overalls. "Maybe stick with green tea next time?"

Vegeta grimaced slightly, but he still managed to surface a small smirk and run his gaze up and down over her. "Hm. Well, you look like you slept in a trash can."

Bulma fought the urge to cross her hands over her stained top and gave him the sweetest smile she could muster. "I _haven't_ slept. I've been fixing the gravity room."

"You certainly smell like you haven't slept," Vegeta said, crinkling his nose in disgust.

Bulma gritted her teeth. Honestly, could he be any more of an arsehole? She sashayed towards him and prodded his bare chest with her finger. "I got your note. A deal's a deal. I expect the rest of the equation to be solved by the end of the day."

Vegeta closed his eyes and ran his hand over his face. When he opened them he looked bone-weary. "Fine." He opened the door and stepped to the side. When Bulma didn't move, he rolled his eyes heavenward. "You can leave now."

Bulma sighed and gathered up her tools. "It's fixed now, thanks for asking," she said sarcastically as she left the GR.

Dawn had just started to break as Bulma stepped outside. Red ray broke through light clouds, making the yellow paint of the walls of the main house at Capsule Corp glow slightly. Her mother was tending to pink carnations in a flower bed nearby. She looked up as Bulma walked by and smiled at her.

"Good morning dear, did you see Vegeta? He took off so fast, I don't know what happened."

Bulma sighed. "Don't mind him, Mom, he's in a weird mood today."

Mrs Briefs shook her head sadly. "He's been through so much, poor thing. And he's such a sweet man too."

Bulma snorted at that, but turned it into a cough at her mother's sharp gaze.

"You really should be kinder to him, Bulma. Anyone can see he hasn't had an easy life. Why, all I did was hold up a worm and he took off like I was threatening him with a nuclear weapon!"

"A worm, you say?" A slow grin crept onto Bulma's face. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind." If Vegeta thought he could keep treating her like crap, well he was going to get a taste of his own medicine.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.** **Reviews are very much appreciated!**

It was dinner time and there was no solved equation on her desk. Bulma chewed the nail on her thumb and mulled it over. She'd decided that if Vegeta didn't give her the equation she'd take advantage of her newfound knowledge. If he did complete it, then she'd know he wasn't a complete jerk. Should she go through with it though? She had no idea how he'd react. Vegeta was volatile on a normal day.

Maybe she'd ask him about the equation at dinner and decide then. He'd probably be there since her mother was cooking. Bulma stood up and stretched out the kinks in her joints, then made her way to the large dining room that her family ate at.

Mrs Briefs had just started to serve the food, piling the large mahogany table with enough food to feed twenty people (or three humans and one Saiyan). Vegeta was there, although he didn't look at her, focussing on his plate instead, which he was piling with food almost as fast as it was being delivered to the table. He was somehow managing to eat at the same time as plating. He managed it all quickly, but tidily - he had it down to an art form.

Bulma took the seat next to him, even though there were plenty of others free, smiling to herself as Vegeta shuffled his chair slightly away.

"How are your projects going?" Dr Briefs asked Bulma as he buttered a warm bread roll. "You've been making some incredible breakthroughs lately."

"They'd go faster if I could solve this particular equation," Bulma said, looking sideways at Vegeta. "If _someone_ would take a break from being a selfish pig and finish."

"Maybe _someone_ should learn the meaning of patience," Vegeta shot back, tearing into a roll with his bare teeth.

Bulma grit her teeth. "We had a deal to get it done today."

"That deal was made by you, not me." Vegeta started stabbing the carrots on his plate. "I said I'd do it, but not when."

"I said today and you agreed!"

"Because I wanted to get you out of the room!" Vegeta stood up and roared.

An odd silence fell over the room.

"Well," Mrs Briefs said cheerfully. "It's lovely to see you two getting on and working on a project together."

Vegeta snorted, but sat back down, continuing to attack his food before eating it.

Bulma pursed her lips and resolved to go ahead with her plan. She'd teach Vegeta not to mess with Bulma Briefs.

* * *

Vegeta's head throbbed. Between no sleep, a hangover and the woman's screeching at dinner he was ready for this day to end. He powered down the GR then opened the door, taking in a deep breath of fresh night air. Except... it wasn't fresh. Vegeta sniffed the air. There was definitely something odd in the air - a rich, earthy smell tainted with a bitterness Vegeta didn't recognise.

He stepped outside to investigate. As he placed a bare foot on the doorstep of the GR, something slimy and squishy surrounded his foot, squelching through his toes. Vegeta looked down and let out a high-pitched yelp. He tried to step over the squirming mass, but his foot slipped and he landed face first in the giant pile of writhing, wriggling worms.

Vegeta blasted into the air, frantically brushing himself off while swearing in every language he knew. He heard a sound coming from the main doorway to the house. He knew without looking that it was Bulma, and he directed his swearing at her.

Her shoulders shook and her hands were over her mouth. When he swore even louder at her, Bulma's giggles turned into full blown laughter, and she leaned against the doorway to support herself, tears streaming down her face.

"I'm going to murder you in your sleep!" Vegeta switched to a language she'd understand.

Bulma just laughed harder. Vegeta brought up a ki ball and floated it in front of him. Bulma stopped laughing but grinned up at him, her blue eyes daring.

Vegeta made it look like he was going to send it her way, and just as she flinched, pitched it towards the worms, killing them all. Then, he flew into the air and headed towards the nearest ocean, intending to swim until he had every last spec of worm matter off him.

* * *

Three days. It had been three days and Vegeta still hadn't returned to Capsule Corp. Oh, he'd disappeared for lengthy periods of time before without saying a word, but that was before he and Bulma had started... becoming friends? Not dating? Bulma wasn't sure how to classify their early morning activities. Regardless, the longer he stayed away, the more Bulma started to worry about exactly how angry Vegeta was.

He had to be planning something. Not to kill her in her sleep - Bulma was certain that was a threat meant to frighten her, but not anything he would actually go through with. No, Vegeta would do something unpredictable. And that was what worried her.

She had to find out what it was.

Bulma headed to the other side of the house, towards Vegeta's bedroom. She hadn't been in there since he'd moved in for the second time, and she was curious to see if it was as stark as it had been when he'd lived here while the Namekians were staying.

She slunk down the hall connecting to his bedroom and cautiously knocked on his door, just in case he was hiding out there. When she didn't hear a response, she opened the door slowly and poked her head around.

The bedroom was neat, with a military-style made queen bed, no clothes anywhere on the floor (unlike Bulma's bedroom) with the only decoration being a pile of books on a bedside cabinet (ordered in size, with the largest at the bottom, smallest at the top and all their spines lined up neatly). There was an interesting mix of titles, including a couple of horror novels, a history of World War One, a book on Greek mythology, and what looked a physics theory textbook. Bulma was surprised he even had physical books, considering how much he favoured the e-reader in the evenings. The e-reader sat on top of the books, also lined up in a similar fashion.

Bulma scanned the rest of the room. There was a small stack of paper on a desk in the corner. Bulma walked in, shutting the door behind her, and went to inspect it. The papers were stacked with precision - they were exactly the same distance from the edge of the desk on the left as they were on the bottom. There were two pens, one blue and one red, and they were lined up parallel with the papers.

"For someone who enjoys leaving a mess in the kitchen after cooking, he sure is a neat-freak," Bulma said and she sat down on the chair by the desk to inspect the papers.

She spread them out over the desk, making careful note of where they had been so she could put them back later. "Wow." Bulma raised her eyebrows, impressed. Vegeta had written out the equation several times and made attempts to solve it. He'd written notes in red in both her language and what looked like a cross between Russian and Korean. From what she could tell, he was very close to solving it. He appeared to be struggling over the final algebraic expression and had made several attempts at it on one piece of problem, underlining several words she didn't understand, his writing getting a little messier each time.

Bulma's stomach started to feel ill. Vegeta had actually been making a genuine attempt to solve it for her. The worst part was she still been certain that the equation and a half Vegeta had solved was a fluke, or he'd somehow enlisted the help of a mathematician, or... Bulma put her head in her hands. It sounded crazy, even to her. Vegeta was an _alien_. Being good at mathematics was hardly the most unusual thing about him.

"Shit." Bulma let out a groan. "What am I doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing," a deep voice said from the doorway.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm not sure what's more fun to write - V/B getting on or V/B arguing. Will Vegeta retaliate? And will we discover the reason Vegeta doesn't like worms? You might just find out in the next few chapters...**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.** **Reviews are very much appreciated!**

Bulma entered her lab and carefully checked the room for any kind of booby trap. She'd managed to make a hasty escape from Vegeta's room yesterday, but that was only because Vegeta seemed to be as taken aback to see her in there as she was to have him turn up half way through her snooping. And she hadn't even managed to get one clue about what he was planning!

Bulma sat down at her desk and tried to concentrate on reading the results of a recent experiment to find out why her hypothesis had failed. But all she could think about was how Vegeta would not let her prank go. Although... maybe this was all part of his plan. To leave her alone and not do anything, and then watch her spin out about a potential retaliation all by herself. It was genius really. Something she would have thought of. But would Vegeta? He didn't strike her as a 'revenge is best served cold' kind of guy.

Maybe he knew how much of a jackass he'd been and was just going to let it slide. Then Bulma remembered the look of abject horror on his face when he'd stepped on those worms, then slipped and fell in them. Honestly, her prank couldn't have gone any better. Yeah... he wasn't going to let that go.

Bulma picked up her cell phone to call for takeaways for dinner. She'd managed to avoid him all day so far, and if that's what she had to do until Vegeta forgot about wormageddon, then so be it.

* * *

Once Bulma finally managed to put that Saiyan out of her mind, she started to accomplish some work. She didn't notice how late it was getting until she started yawning. Bulma glanced at her watch. 1.30am. It was normally the time she'd go and join Vegeta for a late-night meal. Bulma sighed. It had been a while since they did that, and despite Vegeta making her angrier than any other person (which was saying something given Yamcha's track record), she missed those evenings. She missed _him_.

Bulma dragged herself across the compound to her bedroom. After sleepily brushing her teeth and changing into a nighty, she climbed into bed, enjoying the feel of cool cotton sheets and she sprawled out.

Just as she was drifting off to sleep, Bulma heard a croak.

She sat bolt upright, breathing heavily. It was a sound that had plagued her nightmares since Namek. She focussed on the silence of the bedroom, jumping when the croak happened again.

With a shaking hand, Bulma fumbled for the switch on her bedside lamp. Light flooded the room, but the source of the croak was nowhere to be seen.

The next croak sounded muffled somehow. Bulma leaned over the bed and tentatively picked up the end of the valance and peeked under her bed. Nothing there.

She sat up in bed, frowning. Where in Kami's name was that noise coming from?

When two croaks happened simultaneously, she managed to source the direction of them from the other side of the room. Bulma climbed out of bed, put on her slippers and padded across the room to investigate.

After peering under furniture, she managed to locate the sound to her wardrobe. She stood in front of the double doors, her hands on the handles, and hesitated. Tensing, Bulma yanked open the doors.

A swarm of fat green frogs tumbled out and began hopping around her bedroom floor, their large eyes blinking lazily up at her. Bulma shrieked and jumped back onto her bed to escape the frog-ridden floor.

A few of the creatures started hopping around, making it impossible for her to find a clear path to her door and escape the bedroom. Instead, she sat on her bed shivering both from the cold night air, and the terror that was increasing every second.

When a lump at the bottom of her moved, Bulma whimpered and threw back the covers.

A giant frog, twice as big as the others, sat at the bottom of her bed, it's throat slowly expanding into a ribbit.

Bulma let out a scream and braved the floor, hopping between frogs to flee the room, before slamming the door behind her.

* * *

Vegeta sat in bed reading a spy novel that was more interesting than he thought it would be. The protagonist was a loner who didn't appreciate working in teams but was being forced to in order to take down an enemy - something Vegeta could relate to.

When he heard Bulma's screams from the other side of the house, Vegeta paused in his reading and grinned to himself. He could feel her ki approaching, even if he hadn't heard her feet stomping down the halls, and he mentally counted down as she approached. Three... two... one...

"Vegeta!" Bulma burst in, her face red and hair awry. She was wearing what looked like a long t-shirt that had 'I need my beauty sleep' written on it. Her feet were slippered, but Vegeta could see the goose bumps on her arms from the chilly night air.

Vegeta looked back at his e-reader and pretended to ignore her, even though he could _feel_ the rage radiating off her.

"Get rid of them!" Bulma ground out.

"Of what?" Vegeta asked innocently, swiping to the next page.

Bulma hissed thought her teeth and Vegeta fought to hide a smile. "The. Frogs."

"Is that the name of an Earthling music group?"

"Argh!" Bulma kicked his bedroom door closed, stormed over to his bed, picked up the pillow beside him, then proceeded to whack his head with it.

Vegeta grit his teeth and put his e-reader down on top of the books on his bedside table. When he looked up at her, Bulma brandished the pillow threateningly.

"Can't take what you dish out?" Vegeta smirked at her, blocking the pillow with his arm when it came down for the second time.

"How did you even know?" Bulma chewed on her lip, and for the first time Vegeta noticed her eyes were rimmed red.

"That you are terrified of frogs? I saw you panic out by the pond one day when one turned up while you were..." Vegeta waved his hand, unsure of what the term was for whatever Bulma had been doing when she was lying in the sun wearing next to nothing. Other than distracting of course. There was that.

Bulma's already pink cheeks darkened. "You mean that time I was sunbathing?"

Vegeta chuckled. "I've never seen you run so fast as when that frog hopped over to you. Really, you should thank me. I bet being chased by frogs is the only way you ever work out that hideous body of yours."

Bulma huffed and scowled at him. "I can't be that hideous since you were apparently ogling me in my bikini."

Vegeta snorted. "You mean watching you hightail it out of the garden so fast I thought you'd caught fire."

Bulma's frowned deepened. "You need to get them out of my room."

Vegeta picked up his e-reader and started pretending to read. "Not happening."

A sniff came from the side of the bed that Bulma stood on, but Vegeta refused to look up.

"Please?" Bulma asked, her tone honey-sweet.

"No."

Bulma didn't reply. Instead, Vegeta felt the bed move, and when he looked up he realised she was climbing into the bed next to him.

"What... what are you _doing_?" he spluttered.

"What does it look like?" Bulma offered him a flash of teeth that looked more like a challenge than a grin. "I'm sleeping here tonight."

"This house has enough guest rooms to sleep an army!" Vegeta shifted to the edge of the bed as Bulma pulled up the covers and began to snuggle into the pillow she'd only just been using as a weapon.

"If I can't sleep in my own room, I don't want to sleep alone." She rolled on her side so she was facing him. "Can you turn out the light?"

Vegeta considered arguing. He considered scooping her up and dumping her outside the door. He even thought of taking her back to her room and locking her in with the frogs. But, for reasons he didn't quite understand, Vegeta turned off his e-reader, switched off the lamp, then lay down, flat on his back, staring at the roof.

"Thanks," Bulma whispered.

Vegeta grunted. "Whatever. If I murder you in your sleep, it's _your_ fault not mine."

Bulma just laughed, and within a few minutes Vegeta heard her breathing slow, and realised she was asleep. He squeezed his eyes closed, hoping that tonight of all nights he would have an uneventful sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling. One centimetre is just under half an inch.**

Bulma was having a very pleasant dream about eating strawberries with mountains of cream when she woke up, unsure of the reason why. She sat up, her curly hair tumbling around her shoulders, and glanced around the room, disoriented. The bed didn't feel like hers and the dark outlines of furniture didn't match her room either. A soft noise to her right made her look, and she remembered that she was in Vegeta's bed... _with_ Vegeta.

She could just make him out in the shadows. He seemed to be lying on his back, and was muttering something in an alien language. When he cried out louder, clearly distressed, she fumbled for the lamp beside her. Warm light brightened the room, but Vegeta didn't wake up. She could see his eyes moving under his eyelids, and a sheen of sweat peppered his forehead.

Bulma reached out and touched his shoulder. He flinched under her hand, but remained asleep.

"Vegeta," she whispered. No reaction.

Bulma tried again, louder.

Vegeta's eyes snapped open and he gasped for air. Before she could move, Vegeta sat up and with a firm grip on her arm, flung her away from him and onto her back on her side of the bed. He was leaning over her, his black eyes cold and unseeing. His fingers tightened on her arm until the pain was unbearable and Bulma let out a whimper.

At that sound, it was as if light flooded into Vegeta's eyes. He dropped her arm and moved back to his side of the bed, breathing in short, sharp gasps.

"I thought you said you'd murder me in _my_ sleep, not in yours," Bulma said. She struggled to sit up, nursing her arm.

After a moment, Vegeta's breathing slowed. He leaned towards her and took her arm gently, turning it over and inspecting it. Without saying a word, he got up and left the room, leaving Bulma sitting there, stupefied.

Tears welled up in her eyes, although it was less from the pain, and more the realisation that she didn't know what Vegeta had been through. All she did was judge him based on her own experiences and expect him to behave... well, human. But he wasn't, and even if he had been human, he had a dark past that impacted his dreams, so it was hardly surprising that it affected his actions too.

Just as Bulma was about to get up and find another room to sleep in, Vegeta came back in, carrying a first aid kit.

Again, not saying anything, he simply sat on the edge of the bed beside her, took her arm and held it delicately. He brought out an ice pack and pressed it against it, indicated that she hold it, then went to the bathroom and brought back a cup of water. Handing her two white pills that Bulma assumed were painkillers, he motioned for her to have them. She took the glass and swallowed the pills with the water.

After a few minutes of almost unbearable silence, Vegeta took back the ice pack, dug into the first aid kit, and pulled out a tube. He started rubbing what smelt like arnica onto her arm. The skin had already discoloured, and ached terribly, but Vegeta was incredibly gentle as he rubbing on the cream in small circular movements.

"It's alright," Bulma said softly as Vegeta started to pack the cream away. "I know you didn't mean-"

"-That was stupid." Vegeta looked her in the eyes, his face unreadable. "Sleeping here, trying to wake me. I don't... I'm not..." he trailed off, still not breaking his gaze. Finally, he opened his mouth again. "I'm _dangerous_ , Bulma. When are you going to realise that?"

"That's why you push me away," Bulma said. "You think you're going to hurt me."

"I know I will." He moved his hand towards her arm stopping just short of touching it. "I have."

Bulma felt heat radiating from his hand even though he was at least a centimetre away.

He pulled back slowly and dropped his gaze. "I'll do it again, if you don't stay away from me."

"You know I was on Namek, right?" Bulma carefully laid her hand on Vegeta's arm. She felt his muscle twitch but he refrained from pulling away. "I might not have superhuman strength but I can look after myself. I've been in danger plenty of times. You can't scare me off that easy."

Vegeta grunted in reply, but Bulma could feel him relax under her touch.

"Plus, despite wanting to shake you silly sometimes, I can't help but..."

Vegeta's brow creased and he tilted his head, staring at her. "But what? Spit it out."

"I can't help but _like_ you."

Vegeta snorted out a laugh and pulled his arm away. "You're delusional then."

"I'm not." Bulma laughed and held up her hands. "I'm not saying that I like _everything_ about you, but you're funny - even if your sense of humour is a bit twisted - and driven, and smart, which I have no idea why you hide."

Vegeta looked taken aback and opened his mouth as if to argue, so Bulma cut in before he could. "How many languages do you know? Yesterday you had a physics textbook, now you have a French novel," she said, pointing to the books on his nightstand. "You haven't been on earth that long and you've taught yourself French? And then there's the mathematics. What you solved? No one on earth had done that before."

Vegeta smirked and shook his head. "And yet most of the time you throw insults my way."

"You love it," Bulma said, giving him a wink and laughing when it made him flush. "When we argue, you give as good as you get."

"I'm not an intellectual mastermind," Vegeta said. "I'm a survivor. Everything I've learnt has been out of necessity. I'm good with languages because I've studied over fifty of them. It is... it _was_ much easier to prep a planet for Frieza when you know their language and can speak to them, and when you can read up about their culture to find their weaknesses."

"Why bother, if all you were going to do was kill them?" Bulma asked, keeping her tone carefully neutral.

Vegeta crossed his arms, tapping his fingers against them in a repetitive motion. "Destroying and purging planets was part of the job, but that wasn't necessary all the time. Sometimes Frieza just wanted the planet under his control and I was the soldier to convince them that it was in their best interests to get in line."

"Was it?" Bulma asked. "In their best interests I mean."

Vegeta let out a short, sharp laugh. "Probably not. I used to believe it would have been better if my father had taken a stand against Frieza instead of agreeing to be his puppet. We might have been dead but then I wouldn't have ended up..." He went quiet for a long moment, staring at the ground. Then he looked at Bulma. "I don't regret anything I've done, and I know that's not right morally, but my goal has been to survive and I'd have been dead a long time ago if I gave into sentiment."

"What about learning mathematics?" Bulma asked, sensing Vegeta was about to close himself off again.

Vegeta's stance relaxed, although he kept his arms crossed. "The navigation in my pod died and then I messed up the calculations for my flight trajectory and ended up stranded on a deserted planet. I had no comms, but access to a library of books since there was nothing else to do when travelling, so I read every mathematics textbook I could find, and poured over the pod manual until I figured out how to get off that planet and back to base."

"How long did it take you?"

"Three months. And the shit I was in when I got back..." Vegeta grimaced. "Frieza thought I'd deserted. It wasn't fun."

"You haven't had much fun in your life, I'm guessing," Bulma said quietly. Vegeta didn't answer but she took his silence for a yes. "I'm sorry about wormageddon," she blurted out.

"About what?"

"Wormageddon... it's a play on a movie title, Armageddon, where the world is about to end. It's uh..." Bulma stopped as Vegeta looked at her with a confused expression. "It's stupid, don't worry. But I am sorry about pranking you with the..." she wriggled her fingers like worms. "We say an awful lot of nasty things to each other, for the sole purpose of pissing each other off but most of the time we don't really mean them. What I did was cruel."

"Maybe." Vegeta gave her a wry smile. "It must have been funny if the look on my face was as half as good as the look on yours when you came running in here."

Bulma shuddered. "When I opened that cupboard and they all jumped out... It was my worst nightmare. And then the frog in the bed! That was a great touch."

"Why frogs?" Vegeta asked. "It's not like they can hurt you."

"Why worms?" Bulma shot back.

Vegeta just raised his eyebrows.

"Fine." Bulma sighed, the sat up straight against the headboard, crossing her legs. Vegeta was still perched on the very edge of the bed, so Bulma patted the spot in front of her. "You may as well get comfortable."

Vegeta moved back _slightly_ , and slowly uncrossed his arms, but his back remained dead straight.

Deciding it was better than nothing, Bulma launched into the story of having her mind swapped into the body of a frog on Namek.

By the end of her tale, Vegeta had his head in his hands and his shoulders were shaking with laughter. When he looked up, still laughing, Bulma could see actual tears in his eyes. Vegeta lay back on the bed, his laughter slowing, and wiped his eyes. "I don't think I've heard anything so..." He started laughing again.

Bulma poked him in the shoulder with a long nail. "I'm glad my awful experience was so funny for you."

"Ginyu... turned... you into... a frog!" He pressed his hands against his eyes, then pulled them back and turned his head to look at her. "I'm so glad I picked frogs over messing with your hair products."

"My what!" Bulma shrieked.

Vegeta smirked. "Shit, guess I picked wrong."

Bulma picked up the pillow next to her and hit Vegeta's chest with it. "Mess with my hair, and Saiyan or not you will live to regret it."

Vegeta snatched the pillow out of her hands and gently hit it against her head, mussing up her hair. "Whoops."

"Jerk," Bulma said, but couldn't help a small smile.

"Spoilt brat," Vegeta replied.

Bulma propped up the pillow behind her to get comfortable. "You're up next."

"For what?"

It was Bulma's turn to smirk. "Why worms?"

Vegeta let out a groan. "It's not that interesting."

"Don't you try and get out of this. Spill."

Vegeta sat back up, hesitating before responding. "I was eaten by a _schielfelkala,"_ he said in a rush, running his words together. His olive cheeks darkened and he looked at the floor.

"You were eaten... by a giant worm?" Bulma tried to hide her smile, but she couldn't keep a slight giggle out of her voice.

Vegeta glared at her. "A _schielfelkala,_ yes. Nappa and I had landed in a remote part of a planet we were meant to purge, and were camped out for the night when it came up out of the ground while I was sleeping and swallowed me whole. Nappa was on watch, so he managed to get out of the way. I missed the _schielfelkala's_ teeth - perks of being small - and woke up waist deep in stomach acid, in the dark, with no idea what had happened."

"Did Nappa get you out?"

Vegeta huffed. "He tried, but the skin of that beast is incredibly thick, and he didn't want to risk blowing it up and injuring me. I tried blasting out from its stomach but ended up raising the acid levels higher. Since drowning in worm guts didn't sound like a great idea, I managed to get out the other end."

"As in..." Bulma put a hand over her mouth.

"Yes." Vegeta rolled his eyes upwards. "I escaped out the arse of a giant worm."

Bulma burst into a peel of laughter, unable to contain it. "No wonder you hate worms! That would be enough to put anyone off. How long ago was this?"

Vegeta frowned, appearing to think. "I'd have been a year or two older than Gohan is now."

"You... you were just a kid?" Bulma's face fell and she felt her cheeks heat up. "That's awful."

Vegeta shrugged. "In the scheme of things, being eaten by a worm was hardly the worst thing to happen to me. It was the first time I realised what my life meant though and that in all likelihood I was destined for a very early grave."

"You weren't though," Bulma said. "You're still here."

Vegeta pulled a face. "I told you - I'm a survivor."

"Exactly. Which is why you are going to become a Super Saiyan and defeat those Androids." Bulma grinned at him, and prodded Vegeta's side. "And then you can come home and make me carbonara."

Vegeta didn't crack a smile at her joke. He looked at her seriously, his dark eyes burning. "That's part of my problem. I've spent my life striving to get stronger to defeat Frieza. It was my whole purpose. It made everything I did – every bad thing – seem worthwhile. And then it was all taken away by that low-class idiot and I don't have any idea what I'll do after the androids. I don't even really have any idea what I'm doing now other than training to defeat some future enemy that I don't really care about."

Bulma pursed her lips, trying to understand. She supposed that if she no longer had Capsule Corp she would feel lost about her future too. "Well..." she said slowly, glancing at her watch. 4.30am. "You could start by helping me finish that equation." She flashed Vegeta a brilliant smile. "It's not like we are going to get any more sleep tonight anyway."

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Great idea. I'm sure looking at it with no sleep and you whining in my ear will help."

Bulma laughed and stood up to get the workings from his desk. "Stop complaining. You love that there's something you can do better than me."

"I can do everything better than you," Vegeta muttered. But as they put their heads together and started going through his workings, Bulma smiled to herself knowing she was right.

* * *

 **A/N: My longest chapter yet! What did you think? Was that a believable reason for Vegeta being afraid of worms? He seems far too stoic to have an irrational fear without cause!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

They were back to their night time routine - Vegeta cooking, and then both watching a gory movie. But things were... awkward. Bulma couldn't put her finger on why, but she could tell that since opening up to her that night, Vegeta closed himself back off.

He'd been training even longer hours, coming in covered in more cuts and bruises than usual, and Bulma wondered if he'd been sleeping at all. The dark circles around his eyes had become more prominent and she'd caught him nodding off while watching a movie last night. He'd started himself awake and snapped at her when she suggested he get some sleep.

Tonight, he still looked tired but was ever so slightly less irritable. They had been eating a noodle stir fry, but Bulma had moved onto dessert while Vegeta was still on his fifth bowl of noodles. They sat mostly in silence, which hadn't been unusual before, but Vegeta wasn't reading and Bulma couldn't bear it tonight.

She racked her brain for something, _anything_ to say to break it, and spouted out the first thing she could think of. "Would you pass me the salt?"

Bulma wasn't sure if he'd even deign to offer her a reply, but to her surprise Vegeta put his chopsticks down and turned to look at her.

He looked down at her food, then up at her, quirking an eyebrow. "You're eating ice cream."

"Um, yes." Bulma felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She glanced at her ice cream, thinking fast. "It's caramel ice cream. If I add salt it will taste like salted caramel."

Vegeta looked down at her ice cream, his brow wrinkling in puzzlement. "Salted caramel," he said flatly. "No wonder your cooking tastes abominable. You enjoy the most disgusting food."

"I bet you'd like it if you tried it," Bulma said.

Vegeta shrugged, his muscles rippling under his tight black t-shirt. The movement made Bulma feel a little weak. As good as Vegeta looked _not_ wearing a shirt, there was something oddly appealing about him in human clothes.

Vegeta picked up his chopsticks and resumed eating.

Bulma cleared her throat, making him throw her an annoyed glance. "The salt?" she asked.

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "You have arms." he said, in between mouthfuls.

"It's closer to you."

"You say that like I..." Vegeta gestured impatiently with his chopsticks. "How do you say it in your plebeian language? Like I... like I give a shit."

Slightly less irritable? She took that back. He was just as grumpy as ever. "Fine." Bulma reached over Vegeta, purposely knocking the chopsticks out of his hands as she stretched and grabbed the salt.

Vegeta picked up his chopsticks but didn't eat, watching her closely instead. Bulma carefully put a little salt on part of her ice cream, then took a tentative nibble. She raised her eyebrows appreciatively. "It's not bad."

Vegeta made a gagging noise. When Bulma started to shake on more salt, he knocked her elbow, making her drop the shaker. The lid fell off and white salt covered her ice cream.

"Vegeta!" Bulma glared at him as he started laughing. When he didn't stop, she impulsively put her fingers into her bowl, then smeared them across his face.

Vegeta stopped laughing and froze, his mouth slightly open. Then he proceeded to throw a noodle at her. When it landed in her hair, Bulma let out a shriek. She snatched up her bowl of salty ice cream and dumped it on his head, then took off at a run around the breakfast bar and into the kitchen to find a weapon.

Vegeta roared and chased after her, melting caramel ice cream dribbling down his forehead. Bulma opened the fridge door and used it as a shield. She pulled out a bowl of half eaten cat food and waved it threateningly. "Come any closer and you'll get this to the face, Your Highness."

Vegeta used his Saiyan speed to whip the cat food out of her hand, move Bulma to the side, shut the fridge, then pin her up against the fridge door. "Nice try," he growled. "But you are going to have to do better than that."

He was so close Bulma could feel the heat of his breath. She gave him a slow smile, then leaned forward and licked a drop of ice cream off his cheek. Bulma laughed as Vegeta stiffened, and when he made to pull away, she grabbed the front of his t-shirt.

"Don't." Vegeta stared at her with pitch black eyes. "We can't..."

Bulma refused to drop her gaze, despite Vegeta's creepy ability to not blink. "We can."

"We shouldn't," Vegeta amended. He took in a deep breath before continuing. "Everyone around me ends up dead."

"No." Bulma tightened her grip on his shirt. "Everyone around _Frieza_ ended up dead. I'm not going anywhere."

She contemplated kissing him then. It would have been so easy to lean forward and press her lips against his. But Vegeta looked so unsure, and as on edge as a wild animal. Bulma let go of him, reached to the side and picked up a dish towel. She flung it at him. "Get cleaned up, we're going out."

* * *

Vegeta sat sulkily beside her in a metal contraption as Bulma drove. He crossed his arms tapping his fingers impatiently. "I could have flown us there in a tenth of the time." He tensed as Bulma sped around a sharp corner. Did she have no sense of self-preservation? If she crashed she'd be a bloody mess. "If you drive off the road, I'm not rescuing you."

"You don't know where we are going," Bulma pointed out. "And it's cold! I don't want to freeze while you zip through the air at crazy speeds. Besides, it would mess up my hair."

"Your hair looks awful no matter what." Vegeta reached out and patted the top of her head, surprised again at how soft it was. "It's similar to a fluffy blue creature on the planet Garachya that survives by scaring off predators with its incredible stink."

Bulma swatted Vegeta's hand away. "You're one to talk. Has your hair ever heard of gravity?"

"At least I don't purposely style my hair to look like an idiot."

"So you admit, you look like an idiot," Bulma shot back, taking a sideways glance if Vegeta.

He opened his mouth to reply, but Bulma started laughing and Vegeta found he'd dig himself into that one anyway.

"We're here," she said, pulling into a driveway. "See, it wasn't that bad."

"I'm surprised you've survived this long," Vegeta said as he stepped out of the car, stretching out. The automobile reminded him of all the times he'd been crammed into a small space pod for months. Not pleasant, even if it was only a fifteen-minute drive. "I thought this planet had driving regulations. You were all over the road."

"Aw." Bulma got out too and batted her eyelashes at him. "Were you scared?"

Vegeta scowled. "If I was human I would have been terrified."

Bulma huffed and capsulised the car. She started walking up the driveway. Vegeta had to admit to himself that he was curious where Bulma was taking him in the early hours of the morning, but didn't want to give her the satisfaction of asking. The only places Nappa or Raditz had taken him for "fun" were to the range of brothels that accepted the credits they earned from Frieza. Vegeta hadn't enjoyed them as much as the others. Where was the challenge in _paying_ for sex?

Bulma pulled out a key and unlocked a padlock on a large metal door. She pulled the hefty door open, glaring at Vegeta when he didn't help, then walked inside and turned on a light. Vegeta came in after her and saw a large empty concrete room with guns lined up on the side and targets at the other end.

"It's a firing range," Bulma said. "The best way to blow off steam without hurting someone else." She looked sideways at Vegeta, her gaze lingering on a deep cut on his left forearm. "Or yourself."

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "I don't train to 'blow off steam'."

"Well you need to," Bulma said. "You're tense, more crotchety than usual, and something is stopping you from sleeping - no don't try to argue, I'm not an idiot. You used to sleep between training and our late-night meal and now I'd bet you aren't getting more than an hour or two a night."

Vegeta grimaced at how accurate she was, but didn't say anything lest she launch another verbal tirade at him.

Bulma took Vegeta by the hand and half dragged him toward the guns. "The owner lets me come here whenever I want. I pay him enough I suppose! Here, this is the safety - this is on, and this is off. Keep the safety on unless your aiming, I don't want you to shoot me accidentally." She showed how to fire and reload, then took them over to the target practice.

Bulma fired first, her shot hitting less than a centimetre left of the centre.

Vegeta raised his eyebrows, quietly impressed. She fired again, getting dead centre this time.

"Some weapons pull in one direction," Bulma explained. "Once you figure out if your gun pulls, it's just a matter of working out the angle. Outside you have to contend with the wind as well, which is harder to work out, but you must be used to that when fighting."

Vegeta nodded, then took his shot. He scowled when he hit the target a little left of Bulma's first shot. He fired again, adjusting for the angle, and couldn't help a smile when he hit centre.

"Is there anything you aren't good at?" Bulma muttered as she reloaded.

"Social niceties?" he replied, feeling pleased when Bulma laughed. He liked her laugh, despite teasing her about how loud and grating it was. She laughed like the world was hers - unafraid and uncaring of what anyone else thought. Vegeta rarely laughed before coming to earth. If he had it was just another tactic during battle - a way to get under his enemy's skin.

They each took a few more shots, both hitting the centre more often than not. Bulma decided that they needed an extra challenge, so she gave Vegeta a larger gun and told him to come outside with her. They went out a back door that opened onto a field. Bulma pulled down a large switch and light flooded the area.

"Now we try hitting moving targets," Bulma said, her eyes alight with anticipation. "It's called clay pigeon shooting. It became popular after it was made illegal to shoot real pigeons."

This gun was slightly different, so Bulma showed him the basics of safety and reloading, then showed him the machine that would shoot out their moving targets. "You push this button here," she said, gesturing to a black button on the top of the machine, and it fires an orange clay plate. These settings change the trajectory so we can mix it up." She adjusted the dials, then grinned at Vegeta. "You want to go first?"

He raised his gun slowly, not wanting to have a go without seeing it done first, but unwilling to admit that he had no idea what she'd been talking about.

Before he even had his gun ready, Bulma pushed the button. There was a loud clanging noise that echoed across the field, and he saw a small, orange object fly through the air. He squeezed the trigger, knowing he'd missing before he'd even finished releasing.

"Again," he said, adjusting the gun to sit more comfortably. Bulma released the plate and Vegeta tried again, getting closer this time, but not quite calculating the adjustment for the wind enough, much to his irritation.

"It's harder than it looks," Bulma said.

Vegeta frowned at her. "Again."

This time he hit the target, sending orange shards to the ground.

Bulma let out a whoop. "Third time lucky! That was a great shot."

"Luck," Vegeta said with a smirk, "had nothing to do with it."

"My turn," Bulma said, walking over and bumping him out of the way with her hip. Or rather attempting to as the movement felt more like a fly landing on him than anything else. "Make yourself useful and fire a bird for me."

Assuming that a 'bird' was one of the orange plates, Vegeta walked over to the machine and hit the button.

The plate flew into the air and Bulma fired. To Vegeta's immense annoyance, she it the target dead on, and exploding orange dust filled the sky.

Bulma flashed him a triumphant smile. "Another please."

Vegeta changed the settings on the machine, altering the next plate's angle. Bulma still hit the target.

When it was Vegeta's turn again he found with the different settings he had to readjust his aim. After missing the next three shots, he blasted the fourth plate with his ki, shattering it mid-air.

Bulma stuck her tongue out at him. "Cheater!"

Vegeta sighed and tried again, with the gun this time. It wasn't a clean hit, clipping the plate on the side, but he'd take it. He knew how to aim perfectly with his body - he'd been firing ki around the same time he could walk - but using a weapon was something he'd never bothered with before.

When the sun started to rise, sending glaring orange light into the sky and making it hard to see, Bulma sat down in the dew-covered grass, her long legs out in front of her. After hesitating a moment, Vegeta sat down next to her, crossing his legs and making his back straight as if he was doing his morning meditation. They didn't speak, and Vegeta closed his eyes, enjoying the morning sun and the sounds of birds waking up. He so rarely had any peace in his life.

"I'm not strong," Bulma said.

Vegeta frowned at the break in quiet. That woman really didn't understand how _not_ to talk.

"Physically, I mean," Bulma continued. "But I use what skills I have to protect myself."

Vegeta opened his eyes and looked at her. She was staring at the sky, not him for once. The wind rustled her hair, strands of blue almost glowing green in the orange light.

"Goku was always the strong one, but I got us out of trouble just as much as he did." She turned her head to look at Vegeta. "I can defend myself perfectly well."

"A gun wouldn't work on me," Vegeta said.

Bulma sighed. "You're missing the point. I don't run from danger, Vegeta. I never had. I was travelling the world at sixteen, getting into all kinds of scrapes, and I would change my experiences for anything." She leaned towards him, bumping him with her shoulder. "You can try and chase me away, but I'm not afraid, and even if I was, I wouldn't run."

Vegeta contemplated her words. He got her meaning, but didn't think that _she_ understood. "I'm not human," he said slowly. "I'm not a person holding a weapon. I _am_ the weapon. I'll go off whether I want to or not because it is what I was born to do."

Bulma twisted so she was facing him more directly. "You are far more than that," she said with surprising vehemence. "You might have been told that's all you are, but everyone has a choice, and you have been making yours every day since you came to stay. I refuse to believe that is all you are."

Vegeta frowned. Bulma had no idea what went through his head every day. How much of a struggle it was to contain every dark thought, and how much he just wanted to explode. Or implode. The problem was, he didn't think she ever _could_ understand. "You're setting yourself up for disappointment," he said.

Bulma shrugged and went back to staring at the sunrise. "We'll see."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

After some grumbling from Vegeta, Bulma managed to get him back in the 'blasted metal contraption' as he called it, so she could drive them home. Despite his complaining, Vegeta seemed happier than he had been before they'd gone to the range. Although maybe 'happier' wasn't the right term for Vegeta since he was never in a particularly good mood... but at the very least some of the darkness in his eyes had lifted, even if he still looked tired.

She should have been tired too, but the clay pigeon shooting had left her on a high. The energy drink she'd grabbed from the fridge in the range probably wasn't helping either.

"I must admit," Bulma said and she pulled out onto the highway that lead back to Capsule Corp. "I'm glad that there's something that I'm better at you at. Other than engineering and chemistry, oh, and biometrics. Don't get me wrong, you had good aim, but you really need to work on your trajectory mathematics."

When Vegeta didn't respond to her teasing, Bulma glanced at him. His head leaned against the car window, his eyes closed and face completely relaxed. As she drove around a corner, his head moved but he didn't wake up. Bulma giggled to herself as Vegeta made a small snuffling sound, his chest rising and falling gently.

They were only a few minutes away from Capsule Corp. Bulma tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, contemplating what to do. At the last minute, she turned the music up slightly, drove straight past Capsule Corp, and headed out of town.

* * *

Vegeta cracked his eyes open, groaning as the light hit them. His neck hurt and he felt oddly stiff, but for once he felt like he had actually slept. It took him a moment to realise he was in Bulma's metal death trap. She wasn't in the driver's seat, but when he looked out the window he saw a blue-haired figure sitting on a park bench overlooking the city.

He got out of the car and stretched, then walked over to her, rubbing a kink out of his neck. Bulma looked up and smiled when he approached. He sat down next to her, and Bulma leaned against him. She was shivering slightly, so Vegeta raised his ki to warm her up.

"Neat trick," Bulma said, leaning even closer to him.

Vegeta closed his eyes, fighting the urge to wrap an arm around her and pull her as close as he could. When he opened them, Bulma was looking at him with an odd expression that he didn't recognise.

"You slept," she said.

Vegeta raised his eyebrows. Wasn't that obvious?

"You slept for three hours," Bulma amended.

Vegeta was surprised at that, although seeing where the sun hung in the sky, realised she was right. He was immensely relieved that he'd had a dreamless sleep - or at least one not violent enough to have lashed out at her mid-dream again.

They sat quietly for a few minutes until Bulma sat up straighter. "Are you hungry? Never mind, dumb question. You're always hungry. Let's go get some food."

Vegeta was of course hungry, but he groaned inwardly, thinking they'd have to get back into the car. When they stood up though, Bulma capsulised it and lead Vegeta across the road to a small restaurant. The inside was cosy with glaring orange and red colours, but it smelt good, and the other handful of customers seemed to be enjoying their food.

Bulma ordered for them, picking all Vegeta's breakfast favourites. How she knew them he wasn't sure since she slept in and missed breakfast most mornings. Bulma ordered a strawberry milkshake and fries for herself, dipping the fries into the shake and eating them.

"That's disgusting," Vegeta said, his stomach curdling at the combination.

"You're one to talk." Bulma pointed to the sausage wrapped in bacon and smothered in hot sauce that Vegeta was eating. She dipped a fry into her shake then waved it at him. "I dare you..."

Vegeta sighed, but took the fry and had a cautious bite. The sweet shake and the salt on the fry made an intriguing combination. "I've had worse," he admitted.

"High praise indeed," Bulma said, rolling her eyes. "What is the worst thing you've ever eaten?"

Vegeta hesitated. He'd done some desperate things out of starvation and a woman who had spent her life wanting for nothing would never understand. "Probably something Nappa cooked," he said, avoiding specifics.

Bulma started telling him about all the awful food she'd been forced to consume. She seemed to think eat a wild animal was an atrocity to her pallet, and started waving her fry around like a sword. Bulma's sleeve fell back as she gestured, revealing the bruise on her arm. It had faded to a yellow-green colour, and Vegeta pushed away his plate, no longer able to taste his food.

Bulma caught him staring and glanced down at her arm. She pulled her sleeve back up then laid a hand across his. "It doesn't hurt."

Vegeta's hand twitched under hers. A part of him wanted to yank his hand away, but her skin was warm and her fingers stroked the top of his hand softly. His palm felt magnetised to the table.

He should have been reminding himself how all he would do was hurt her. For he would - physically and emotionally. But somehow that was lost as he noticed that yesterday's make up had worn off and she looked younger. And as she smiled, he realised it was ever so slightly lopsided to the left. As she breathed, her chest moved up and down, making the Capsule Corp logo on her t-shirt move with it. But most of all he noticed that the only time the aching emptiness where his heart was supposed to be - the one that had been there since Frieza literally put a hole through it - felt less cavernous was when _she_ was next to him.

Bulma pulled back her hand, leaving him reeling at its absence. She stood up and threw some cash on the table. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

Vegeta had never been a man of many words, unless it was in the middle of an argument where he would fire them out with ferocity. But he was quieter than normal at the restaurant, and Bulma couldn't work out what it meant. Vegeta always communicated with body language first, words second, but although he seemed to understand most human expressions and movements, he used a much wider range himself. He'd been watching her differently this morning, and his expression held something that she didn't recognise.

After they left the building, Bulma touched the car capsule in her pocket. Changing her mind, she withdrew her hand, leaving it in there. "If we are going straight to Capsule Corp it doesn't matter if my hair gets messy," Bulma said standing in front of Vegeta. She slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling his muscles stiffen underneath her. "Fly us back?"

Vegeta considered her without moving. His gaze met hers, and Bulma found herself unable to look away. Finally, he circled his arms around her waist, carefully at first, and then firmly, holding her body tight against his. He took off abruptly, barely giving Bulma time to take a breath. His ki flared around them, providing a warm cocoon, and Bulma rested her forehead against his chest to keep the wind out of her eyes.

All too soon, Vegeta had them back at Capsule Corp. Instead of landing at the front door, he touched down on her bedroom's balcony. The balcony door was open, with net curtains fluttering in the light breeze.

Vegeta dropped his arms and made to step back, but Bulma kept her arms around his neck.

"Stay," she said.

Vegeta took in a sharp breath, and she knew he got her meaning. He didn't move, but Bulma could feel the tension just under the surface of his skin. She could also tell by his hesitation that at least part of him wanted to stay.

Drawing herself forward, Bulma pressed her lips against his. He didn't respond at first, other than to turn even more rigid, if such a thing was possible. But just as she was about to pull away, his hands moved to her hips and he was kissing her back, albeit carefully, as if he was afraid of hurting her.

Bulma pushed her fingers through his hair and kissed him harder. He responded in kind, making a soft growl in the back of his throat. He guided her backwards so they stumbled through the balcony door and into her bedroom. The back of Bulma's legs hit her bed. She started pulling at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. He had it off over his head, then did the same to hers. Bulma tugged him with her onto the bed, atop a mound of cushions.

Vegeta batted a pink, fluffy pillow off the bed, then descended on her neck, just below her ear, with his mouth. He positioned his body beside hers so he wasn't crushing her with his weight, but his right hand started roaming, running across the flat plane of her stomach and upwards, his rough skin causing shivers as he caressed her soft skin.

Bulma let her own hands explore his back, feeling the hard edges of his muscles. His skin was firmer than anyone else's that she'd ever touched. Even though she could barely see the scars covering his body because their colour was no different to the rest of him, her fingers could feel them - some small notches, others deeper. There can't have been many people in the universe strong enough to scar a Saiyan's skin, but on his back he didn't have much unaffected by them.

Bulma trailed her fingers up his back, over his shoulders, and onto his chest. A Saiyan's heart was in the same place as a human's and she placed a hand over his. She knew that was where his final mortal injury from Frieza had been, but the skin was smooth, presumably healed by the dragon. Bulma leaned forward and kissed him there. He tasted different to a human as well. It was subtle - slightly less salty perhaps. He had the faint scent of a tropical storm, and as she kissed him she could almost taste the rain.

Vegeta had one hand tangled in her hair, his fingers gently massaging her scalp to the same rhythm of his torturous kisses exploring her body. Every kiss, every touch from him set her body alight, and she let out a soft moan. She tried to pull him closer, but it was like trying to move a mountain. When she scraped her nails down his side instead, he wriggled away slightly and made a muffled sound of annoyance against her.

"You're ticklish?" Bulma giggled and did it again.

Vegeta let out a low rumble and took her hands in one of his, pinning them above her head. Bulma gasped and began to object, but he gave her a wicked grin then started trailing slow, hot kisses down her neck, down her chest, and then lower, all the way down her stomach, scraping his teeth ever so slightly against her skin each time.

Bulma gasped and quivered with each kiss. Kami, he'd barely touched her and she was becoming undone. She writhed under him, begging him with her body to keep going.

At her movement, Vegeta let out a shuddering breath and let go of her hands, moving one leg over her and propping himself up with his hands so he hovered just above her - close enough to feel the warmth coming off him, but just far away that Bulma didn't get the weight of him.

"Last chance," he said so quietly, she barely made it out.

Bulma wrapped her legs around his waist, and looped her arms around his neck. "I want you." She pulled back a hand and reached out to touch his cheek. "All of you."

Vegeta closed his eyes and leaned into her hand for a moment. When he opened them, his eyes were alight with a hunger she hadn't seen before. He kissed her, his hands frantically trying to get rid of the rest of their clothes, and Bulma groaned against his mouth, forgetting everything but the feeling of this man against her.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for all your reviews so far - they are so motivating and very much appreciated. I've been updating this story about every two days which I wouldn't have thought was possible but I'm enjoying writing this so much! I'll do my best to keep up the update pace for the rest of the story.**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

Vegeta stared at the woman sprawled out on the bed next to him. Her mass of blue hair covered both her pillow and part of his, tickling his nose. The afternoon sun streamed in through the open window, passing through net curtains to cast floral patterned rays across the bed. Bulma had fallen asleep a while ago, but Vegeta had been both unable and unwilling to.

He'd been thinking about attempting to extract his arm out from under her and escaping for the last twenty minutes. Thinking about leaving not just this bedroom, or this house, but this whole damn planet. He could disappear into space and forget he'd ever come to Earth. Let the Androids turn it all to hell and leave everyone here to rot. He could leave, and forget the blue-haired creature that he was half convinced had cast a bewitching spell on him.

It was a tempting idea. Of course, the ship probably still needed repairs from the last time he took off into space. And if he did leave permanently, he'd never get the chance to defeat Kakarot. He also had to admit that the likelihood of being able to forget the woman lying next to him was low.

His reasons for considering leaving were obvious. His training had plateaued and he was in dire need of a bigger challenge. The gravity room wasn't helping anymore, even with the latest modifications to the metal shell that had allowed Bulma to increase the gravity even higher. He needed to try something different, and he was certain he could find a greater challenge out in space.

He was also distracted on Earth. He'd been trying to convince himself it was just the good food and gory entertainment, but he knew it was more than that. It was _her_. He found himself thinking about Bulma at the oddest moments. Like while doing his katas. Or while fighting off the bots. Or while taking a shower... Vegeta shook his head, disgusted with himself. He thought about her during almost every moment of the day. He was pathetic. He was even dreaming about her, although those moments were less pleasant.

Vegeta cautiously placed a hand on Bulma's bare back. She was so fragile, with supple skin that offered barely any protection, weak bones that could break on impact, and ki so low he had to concentrate to sense. One wrong move and he could wipe her from existence.

Bulma's soft breathing didn't change at his touch, so Vegeta manoeuvred his arm out from under their pillows. Once successful, Vegeta slid out of bed and pulled his clothes on. Bulma might want to sleep the rest of the day away, but Vegeta didn't want to risk attacking her in his sleep. Besides, he hadn't done any training today which left him restless.

After a vigorous session in the gravity room that had him feeling less on edge, Vegeta's empty stomach and the smell of ginger, soy sauce, and chicken coming from the kitchen lured him in that direction. He checked for Bulma's ki, and sensing her still in her bedroom walked into the dining room attached to the Brief's restaurant-sized kitchen.

Bulma's mother smiled widely when he entered. "Oh good, I was hoping you'd join us for dinner. I made far too much. Here, let me get you a plate." She bustled around the kitchen, so Vegeta sat at the table, opposite Dr Briefs, who was reading the newspaper with a frown on his face.

The doctor folded the paper after a moment, and after glancing at his wife as if to check if she was listening, he leaned in towards Vegeta. "I've been meaning to ask you about that bruise on Bulma's arm."

Vegeta's narrowed his eyes. "What about it?" His words came out sharper than he'd meant them to.

Dr Briefs met Vegeta's glare with one of his own. "We've given you everything you need here, boy. Bulma especially has been looking out for you. Anything like that happens again and you'll have overstayed your welcome."

Vegeta flushed with anger and a sick feeling he didn't recognise. Not too long ago he would have killed someone on the spot for speaking to him like that. He let Bulma get away with it because he enjoyed their verbal battles, but tolerating it from Dr Briefs made his fists clench under the table. "I didn't do it on purpose," he said through gritted teeth.

At Dr Brief's disbelieving expression, Vegeta found himself trying to explain further. "Bulma was in my bed while I was asleep, and then she tried to wake me up and-" He broke off suddenly, realising what it sounded like.

Dr Briefs had paled slightly. "Er, well... I see."

"I mean, we weren't..." Vegeta's face grew even hotter and he stared at the vase of flowers on the table. "At least not then... but uh..."

Dr Briefs made a choking sound. He covered it by taking a long drink of his red wine while his wife brought over their food, but when she went back into the kitchen he started talking again. "Can you promise that you won't hurt her again? Accidental or not."

Vegeta took a large bite of chicken to contemplate the best answer. He could lie, but then when he did hurt her, he wasn't sure what the doctor would do. Once he swallowed, he prodded his rice with his chopsticks. "She's human and I'm..." He looked the doctor in the eyes. "I'm not. She will always be in danger around me."

Dr Briefs was silent for a long moment. When he looked back at Vegeta, his eyes were sad. "I'll look into fixing the ship to make it space worthy," he said. "Just in case."

All the heat left Vegeta's face and drained away, leaving him cold. Despite all the reasons why he should leave, and the fact that the doctor had every right to be concerned, Vegeta realised then that he didn't _want_ to leave. But despite being born in a position that should have entitled him to an entire planet, Vegeta had never got anything he'd truly wanted in his life before. So the Prince of all Saiyans merely dropped his gaze and nodded.

* * *

Bulma stretched out sleepily across her bed, patting the left side to feel for Vegeta. When she couldn't find him, she cracked an eye open. He wasn't there. She opened her other eye and looked around the room. Neither were his clothes.

Bulma sighed. Of course, it was too much to presume he would lie in bed with her for the rest of the day - she'd probably been lucky he hadn't left the room straight after sex. Instead, he'd actually stayed with her until she'd fallen asleep, something she hadn't expected.

She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. Nine o'clock at night. He was probably training. Bulma dragged herself out of bed and had a shower, turning the water temperature up so hot her skin turned pink. Would Vegeta be in the kitchen tonight, or would he regret what they did and avoid her like he had after they'd kissed in the living room? Bulma put her face in the water and groaned at the thought. They'd just got back to being in a good place. Had she completely wrecked things between them by sleeping with him?

Lathering up the shampoo in her hair, Bulma started to grin. If she had put their tentative friendship back on rocky ground, it had been worth it. Kami, she didn't think she could sleep with another human man again. It was as if Vegeta had an extra sense that knew exactly where and how to touch her to make her implode.

Deciding that Vegeta could act how he wanted because she wasn't going to let it ruin her feeling of utopia, Bulma stepped out of the shower, dressed, then went in search of a late dinner, practically skipping down the hall.

She ran into her father on the way. "Hi Daddy!" She said cheerfully, smacking a kiss on his cheek as she passed by.

He adjusted the glasses on his nose and looked at her suspiciously. "You're in a good mood."

"What's not to be in a good mood about?" She flashed him a wide grin. "We have two years until the Androids arrive - we should be enjoying it! Have you seen Vegeta today?"

"I, well... he was at dinner," her father spluttered.

"Was _he_ in a good mood?" Bulma asked as casually as she could.

Her father turned bright red and started walking down the hall. "I... uh couldn't say, dear. I have to... um go, somewhere... Have a good evening!"

"Odd..." Bulma stared after her father. Chalking it up to his usual distracted behaviour, Bulma continued to the kitchen. There was leftover chicken and rice in the fridge, so Bulma heated it up and ate it.

As she was clearing up, she heard the hum of the GR wind down. Bulma paused in putting her dishes away and tried to listen out for the door opening and Vegeta walking in. When she didn't hear anything, she put her dishes away then went to peak out the curtains to the yard.

Vegeta stood in the middle of the lawn. He must have used the shower Bulma had recently installed in the GR because instead of his training shorts he wore a t-shirt and sweatpants, and he had a towel draped around his neck. His head was tilted up, as if looking at the stars. He stood as still as a soldier at attention. Bulma couldn't even tell if he was breathing. She hesitated, unsure if he would welcome company. Of course, he barely tolerated her company on most days but that had never stopped her before. Bulma grabbed a throw off a chair and wrapped it around her shoulders before quietly slipping out the door to join him.

Vegeta didn't look at her as she planted her feet next to his. She heard his breathing shift though, from small almost inaudible inhalations to deeper ones that held a sigh in them. He _was_ looking at the stars, his gaze shifting to different areas of the sky without moving his head.

"Are you plotting your escape path?" Bulma asked, trying to sound like it was a joke, but genuinely concerned that was what he was doing.

Vegeta gave her a low chuckle. "Perhaps. I like to keep my options open." He was quiet for a moment, then pointed to a patch of sky with only a few scattered stars. "If I _was_ going to leave, I would go to the Therakard Quadrant," he said, pronouncing the quadrant name with a strange clicking sound in the middle. He dropped his hand, then crossed his arms against his chest. "It's remote and mostly uninhabited, but exceptionally dangerous. Constant meteor showers rain down on the planets there. It would hold a good challenge for me." He turned his head to look at Bulma. "You can see my planet's sun with the naked eye from there."

She pulled her throw closer around her shoulders and watched Vegeta's expression carefully. "Will you go?"

He cocked his head, studying her with his unblinking gaze. "Not tonight." He turned his stare back on the stars.

Bulma edged closer to him until she pressed herself against his side. He didn't pull her closer as Yamcha might have done, but he didn't move away either, even when Bulma rested her head in his shoulder. And that was enough, for now.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

Their nightly routine continued, much to Bulma's immense relief. Vegeta was as broody as ever, but he no longer tensed at her touch - as long as it was just the two of them in the room - and if it was even possible, he'd become even _more_ in tune with how to touch her to make her world explode. Like after the first time, he always left while she was sleeping, and never let himself fall asleep next to her. Whenever she asked him to stay longer he would trace her arm where the bruise had long since faded and simply shake his head.

It worried Bulma, because it had to mean he was still having regular bad dreams. He looked like he was sleeping better though, and without the dark circles around his eyes Vegeta's already youthful face looked even younger.

At the moment, his face was set in concentration as he stirred a large pot of soup, throwing in vegetables and herbs while it bubbled away. "Soup is eaten with a spoon?" he asked, adding something red and powdery into the mix.

"Yes," Bulma replied. "Unless it's more of a stew then I suppose you could use a fork."

"Spoons for soup, knife and fork for pancakes, and chopsticks for noodles or rice." Vegeta shook his head with a frown. "Utensils are confusing on the planet."

"What do other planets use?" Bulma asked, trying to imagine what strange utensils might exist.

"Their hands, mostly." Vegeta started cutting up thick bread and slathering it with butter. "Or other food, similar to this bread."

"What did they use on your planet?"

Vegeta frowned as he always did when she asked him a question about Planet Vegeta. He started serving the soup into a standard sized bowl for her and a large mixing bowl for him. "We had knifes for carving meat, and what looked like a pike to hold it while slicing. When eating, most meals were served with a flat bread, and that was used to scoop food and eat." He had a small smile on his face as he passed Bulma her food. "Chefs were almost as well respected as soldiers. Food was very important to my people."

"I can't imagine why," Bulma joked as Vegeta started wolfing down his enormous helping. She blew on her steaming spoon then had a sip. "This is good. Even better than Mom's."

Vegeta sat down next to her, looking both surprised and pleased at her compliment. "I doubt that. Your mother might be an idiot - or pretending to be, I haven't worked that out yet - but her food is the only reason I stick around on this backwater planet."

"Don't insult my mother!" Bulma punched his arm, wincing and shaking her hand off after since it was like punching a brick wall.

Vegeta looked genuinely confused. "I complimented her."

"After you said... never mind." Bulma sighed, then started smirking. "Are you sure her food is the only reason you stay?" She placed an arm on Vegeta's thigh and started tracing her fingers up it.

"Yes," Vegeta said completely ignoring her wandering hand.

Bulma drew her hand back and pouted at him. "It's your own fault if _I_ don't stick around. A girl likes to be appreciated you know."

Vegeta snorted. "I could never learn to appreciate your loud mouth."

"I'll have you know, there is plenty I can do with my mouth that would turn you into the noisy one."

Vegeta choked on his soup. He turned bright red and started coughing. Bulma smacked him on the back trying not to laugh. Vegeta brushed her off and grabbed a glass of water. After tossing it back and a few gasping breaths, he turned to Bulma and glared at her. "You are a vulgar woman."

" _You_ are a prude," Bulma shot back. "It's ridiculous that you think it's perfectly acceptable to kill someone if you don't like them, but talk about sex and Kami above it's a big moral issue for you."

"I don't have _morals_ ," Vegeta said, his eyes widening indignantly. "It's just not something I want to talk about."

"Why not? It's not like you're terrible at it and should be embarrassed."

"Not terrible at it..." Vegeta pushed away his soup and crossed his arms.

Bulma fought a grin off her face. He was so easy to wind up. "Eh, you do okay I suppose."

Vegeta watched her closely, then his expression softened as he seemed to realise she was joking. "You are a fucking bitch."

"A bitch with a great mouth-"

The rest of Bulma's reply was lost as Vegeta captured her mouth with his.

* * *

Bulma danced around her lab, singing along to a song blasting through her headphones as she worked on converting her father's weatherproof tent material into a suit for Vegeta. A movement out of the corner of her eye and she spun around with a grin, thinking it was Vegeta.

Her face fell when she saw Yamcha leaning against the doorway, a bouquet of pink lilies in his hand. She pulled off her headphones and eyed him warily. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to apologise." Yamcha waved the flowers at her.

Bulma pressed her lips together. The nerve of him, just showing up like this! "It's been over six months, Yamcha. That boat has well and truely sailed."

"Are you seeing someone else?" Yamcha looked a little deflated. He held out the flowers awkwardly but Bulma refused to step forward and take them.

"You gave up the right to know anything about my life when you cheated on me with that green-haired bimbo!" Bulma grit her teeth and went back to concentrating on her work.

"Come on Bulma, it was just a kiss. Nothing else happened."

Bulma waited for the familiar rising heat of anger to burn through her body. When it didn't happen, she looked at Yamcha. She didn't care anymore, she realised. She might have loved Yamcha once, but those feelings were gone now.

"It doesn't matter," Bulma said. "I've moved on and so should you."

"With who?" Yamcha demanded.

"Why does it have to be with anyone?" Bulma snapped, annoyed at his presumption. "I've made fantastic progress with my work, and if I am seeing someone else it has nothing to do with what happened between us."

Yamcha stepped into the room and placed the flowers on her lab bench. Bulma scowled as pollen dropped on the bench, but but her tongue. She had more important things to do than argue with Yamcha.

"What are you working on?" Yamcha asked.

Bulma raised her eyebrows. That was the first time he'd ever shown an interest in her work. "It's a battle suit," Bulma said. "I might not be able to fight the Androids, but I can help my friends stay safe." She started talking through the specifics of how the material worked, but Yamcha's eyes started to glaze over.

"Is it a polymer?" another voice said from the doorway.

Bulma smiled as Vegeta strolled in. He was holding a packet of salt an vinegar potato chips, and walked up to her, brushing past Yamcha as if he didn't exist. When he offered her the packet, Bulma took a chip, nodding in answer to his question. "Yes, I only needed to make a few changes from Dad's design. It should be stronger than your current armour, and even more flexible."

Vegeta asked a few more questions, about how it worked, and Bulma showed him through the microscope. "It looks adequate," he said as he looked through it.

"It's damn well better than adequate! And don't get crumbs on the suit," she scolded as Vegeta picked up the material and peered at it without the microscope. Vegeta put the suit down with a slow grin. He reached for another chip, ate it, then brushed his hand, along with salt and vinegar crumbs, over the top of her hair. Bulma batted his hand away throwing him a halfhearted glare and she tried to hold back a laugh.

"Are you _serious_?" Yamcha said suddenly, making Bulma jump. She'd forgotten he was even there. Both her and Vegeta looked at him, Vegeta somehow managing to look menacing while pulling out a chip and crunching on it.

"You're moving on with _Vegeta_?"

Vegeta looked down at his feet, then back up at Yamcha. "I'm standing still."

Yamcha threw Vegeta a disgusted look. "You're a moron."

"That would be you, Yamcha," Bulma said flatly. "Thinking you can turn up after six months and all will be forgiven."

Vegeta smirked and ate another chip, crunching obnoxiously.

"He's a psychotic murderer!" Yamcha turned bright red and clenched his fists. "It was insane for you to let him stay here, and now you're opening your legs for him like a common whore?"

Vegeta moved so quick it was a blur to Bulma. He had Yamcha up against the wall by his neck, pinning him with one hand. "I am psychotic," Vegeta said, his voice oddly flat. "And murderer is an apt description. I've never denied either of those things. Would you like me to show you just how psychotic I can be?" Vegeta started to smile as Yamcha gasped for air, his eyes wide with terror. "I could peel your skin off, layer by layer, until all your muscles are exposed. Then I could snap all of your tendons so those muscles fall to the floor like an animal's droppings."

Bulma made a gagging sound. "Gross, Vegeta! Put him down."

His grip didn't loosen - if anything, it tightened. " _You_ said I don't have a problem killing people I don't like. I don't like this human." He turned to look at Bulma, and had an almost pouty expression on his face.

"Neither do I right now, but I don't want him dead!" Bulma rolled her eyes at Vegeta's put out expression. "Kami, Vegeta, let him go - he's running out of oxygen."

Yamcha clawed at the Saiyan's hand, but Vegeta didn't flinch at the red lines being drawn. "Talk to her like that again," he hissed, "and you won't live to regret it." He let go of Yamcha, who crumpled to the ground holding his neck. "You can leave now."

Yamcha looked to Bulma, fury in his eyes when she didn't say anything. "You're just going to stand there and let him treat me like that?"

"I asked him to let you go. He did." Bulma sighed. Honestly all the men in her life were so dramatic. "You should leave, Yamcha. Thanks for the flowers."

Yamcha gave Vegeta one last enraged glare before storming out. Bulma picked up the flowers and threw them in the bin. "Don't look at me like that!" She said to Vegeta.

"Like what?" Vegeta held out his hands defensively.

"Like you just won a fight with Goku. It was Yamcha, he's an arsehole, but there was no need to go all Frank Castle on him."

"Who is this Frank Castle?" Vegeta asked. "I would like to meet him."

Bulma put her head in her hands. "Never mind..."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

It had been a few days since Bulma's idiot ex-boyfriend had turned up, reigniting the bloodlust that had followed Vegeta everywhere before coming to Earth. It wasn't as if his bloodlust had disappeared on Earth, but Vegeta had found that by not giving into it for so long he felt a little more in control of it. Or he had until Scarface made that comment. Now Vegeta felt constantly restless, and his hands ached to rip somebody apart. Even training until he dropped from exhaustion was barely keeping it at bay.

Trying to get rid of some of his antsiness, Vegeta spun around on the office chair in Bulma's lab as he'd seen her do many times before. It didn't seem that enjoyable, but maybe since Bulma couldn't fly she needed less to get a kick.

Bulma stood at her whiteboard, scribbling out an equation. Vegeta hadn't worked out if she was angry about threatening to torture and kill her ex. She hadn't mentioned it since, but he'd caught her watching him with an expression that he couldn't pinpoint. He didn't understand every human expression yet, but he was sure he hadn't seen that one on her until recently.

Vegeta grabbed a handful of sweet and salty popcorn from the bowl on her desk that he'd brought in with him and found himself watching her. The weather had started warming up and she wore shorts and a low-cut t-shirt that rode up as she stretched to write on the top of the board. If he stuck around for long enough he was going to enjoy summer, he decided, throwing the popcorn in his mouth.

"What do you think?" Bulma asked.

"About what?" Vegeta spun in the chair again. He wondered if it made her dizzy.

Bulma caught him by the shoulders to stop him spinning, giving him a great view of her breasts as she leaned over him with a frown. "The compressibility!" She turned the chair to face him towards the whiteboard. "It's causing problems with the following expression but I can't work out how to change it without unbalancing something else."

Vegeta stared at the board, reaching out for more popcorn as he worked out where in the equation she meant.

"Well?" Bulma leaned over the back of the chair, resting her chin on his shoulder and wrapping her arms loosely around his neck.

"I'm thinking."

"You're eating," she said, plucking a piece of popcorn out of his hand and eating it herself. "You can't do both. It's physiologically impossible for a Saiyan to eat and think at the same time."

Vegeta snorted, then grabbed another handful of popcorn. "I didn't realise you were the universe's foremost expert on Saiyan physiology."

Bulma slid her hands down his chest and started nibbling on his ear. "You didn't say that last night."

Vegeta's heart sped up, but he refused to let on that she had any effect on him at all. He ate the rest of the popcorn in his hand slowly before responding to her original question. "Maybe it's a problem with the variable in the third expression."

"Maybe..." Bulma turned the chair around so he was facing her, then she placed each of her legs over his, straddling him in the chair. "But what about the coefficient?" She kissed his neck and bit down gently.

"Looks fine to me," Vegeta mumbled against the collarbone he'd started kissing. Her skin was so soft he was afraid of kissing it too hard and marking it. She tasted so good though - like she'd been seasoned with a little salt. "The variable's subscript could be wrong."

Bulma pressed her chest against his and kissed him hard on the lips. "Fuck, I love it when you talk mathematics to me," she said when she pulled back.

Vegeta slid his hands up the back of her shirt, hunting for the clip to her bra. "It could take weeks to figure out this one." Who the fuck invented bra clips? They had to be a cruel, cruel bastard. Vegeta let out a huff of annoyance as he fumbled. They were impossible to get undone without looking, but Bulma had shrieked her head off the last time he broke one.

"I don't have weeks." Bulma had her hands up his shirt and dragged her nails down his stomach. "My product launch is next Tuesday."

"And why should I care about your product launch?" Success! Clasp undone, Vegeta started to move his hands to her chest.

Bulma caught his elbows, stopping his hands where they were. "If I don't launch Tuesday I will be far too busy sorting the company's shit out to have any time with you. No dinner, no movies..."

Vegeta smirked. As if he minded time alone.

"...no sex."

Vegeta's face fell. "We could try and access my old pod chip. I kept it because it has a library worth of books on it. It's in my room and has several mathematical theory books that could help. I'd just need to find the right theorem and translate it for you."

Bulma froze, her eyes wide. "You have something like that and only thought to tell me _now_?"

"I remember a lot of the content, and anything else I can work out with time. I didn't think it was necessary..."

Bulma clambered off Vegeta and stood up. "Go get it."

" _Now_?" Vegeta couldn't hide his horror and she did her bra back up.

"Yes, now!" Bulma pulled her shirt back into place.

Vegeta crossed his arms and glared back at her. Bulma didn't budge, or drop her gaze. Finally, with a dramatic groan, Vegeta stood up and went to get the chip. The woman was turning him into a weakling.

* * *

Vegeta handed her the chip, but placed one of his hands over hers to prevent her from taking it from him. "There's a lot on this that would have had me killed for treason," he said as casually as he might have stated it contained a recipe for soup. "I had it encrypted in six different languages, and if you try get around it the chip will wipe itself."

Bulma grimaced. "This will be fun then."

"Just get it compatible with your computer and I can get you into it. I don't want to lose the information on it," he said, finally letting go of her and the chip.

"So don't fuck it up. Got it." Bulma gave him a mock salute.

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "I'm going to train. Let me know when you need me."

"You mean you will allow me to interrupt your precious training?" Bulma gasped and placed a hand on her chest, grinning back at Vegeta's glare. "It's nice to know you care."

Vegeta clicked his tongue in annoyance. "I know if I don't come straight away you'll get impatient and try crack the encryption."

"I promise, I'll just get it compatible."

Vegeta nodded sharply, then marched out of the room. Bulma inspected the chip and started mulling over exactly how she was going to connect an alien computer chip to her computer.

It took Bulma six hours, ten cups of coffee and a bag of pretzels, but she finally got the chip connected with her computer. The screen was black and covered in strange blue writing, some of which Bulma vaguely recognised from Vegeta's notes when solving a math problem.

She created a video link to the GR on her other computer and asked Vegeta to join her. She was surprised when he told her to give him fifteen minutes to have a shower. She didn't think he'd ever willingly come out of the GR for her before - not even the promise of sex could lure him out. Bulma started at the screen as she waited, he fingers itching to dive in. What exactly did the chip contain that required such a complex encryption? Bulma sat on her hands to prevent her from jumping in and finding out.

"That was quicker than I thought," Vegeta said as he walked in. He'd changed into his usual black t-shirt, but he'd paired it with a pair of jeans she'd never seen him in before.

"The tech is similar to your pod," Bulma said, brushing her hair behind her ear while trying to avoid staring at Vegeta. How did he always look so good in human clothes? It took her hours to look that good and all he had to do was throw on a t-shirt and pants and he looked like a freaking model out of a magazine. She saw him every day, but sometimes he quite literally took her breath away. "I used some of the same methods to get it compatible so it didn't cause me too many problems."

Vegeta came over and inspected the screen, his eyes moving back and forth as he read it. He started typing at lightning speed, and Bulma gave up trying to follow it after a minute.

"How long will it take to unencrypt?" She asked.

"Not long." Vegeta kept typing. The screen seemed to throw up more and more blocks of alien text, but Vegeta didn't falter in his work.

Finally, after about twenty minutes of keys clacking, Vegeta stopped. "It's done."

Bulma looked at the screen. It seemed to have a file system like an Earth computer. Vegeta started going into different folders and pulling up different screens of text.

"I can't read any of it," Bulma said, disappointed.

Vegeta turned to her, raising his eyebrows. "Of course you can't, _genius_. I told you I'd have to translate."

He kept sifting through files as Bulma stared on, fascinated. It looked like there were a few image files too, although in their layout they were too hard to make out. And was that...

Bulma put her hand on Vegeta's to stop him typing. "Is that a video?"

Vegeta shook her hand off and continued his file checking. "If it is, it is none of your business. Here, I think I've found it." He pulled up a screen that Bulma couldn't understand but did have to admit that it looked vaguely mathematical in its layout.

He started scribbling on a piece of paper, writing out an equation, swearing in multiple languages under his breath, and rewriting it again. He'd written it out five times before handing her a piece of paper with the final version of it.

"This is the theory," he said. He started pointing to different parts of the equation and showing her how it all balanced out. It was exceptionally complex, but Vegeta explained it all so eloquently that Bulma couldn't help feel impressed, and a little irritated that he was once again proving his brain matched hers, at least when it came to maths.

"This is incredible," she said, applying the theory to her own equation. She almost cried when it started to come together. "How much more is there on the chip that could help me with other projects?"

"A bit..." Vegeta said, eyeing the computer nervously. "Everything on there would take a lot of time to translate because it is in multiple languages, some of which I haven't used in years."

Bulma put her pencil down and stared at the perfectly balanced equation in front of her. "It worked."

Vegeta leaned over to look at it. "It _was_ the variable."

"And the coefficient. We had them both wrong."

"We?" Vegeta turned and smirked at her. "You're the one that wrote it. All errors were yours, not mine."

For once, Bulma didn't snap back with a sharp reply. She was too relieved. Instead, she threw her arms around him and kissed him. "Thank you," she said when she pulled back.

"Your product launch is saved?" Vegeta asked.

"Yes." Bulma let out a sign of relief. "It would have cost millions to push it back."

"You have time for this then." Vegeta picked Bulma up, making her squeal before drowning it with a kiss. He set her on a workbench, sending tools and paperwork flying with a sweep of his hand. Bulma started to protest but then he kissed her again, and she forgot all about the mess and kissed him back.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

"Are you sure you'll be fine, sweetie?" Bulma's mother asked, placing her hand on Bulma's forehead.

"I'm fine." Bulma waved off her mother's hand then took a sip of her lemon honey drink. "It's just a cold."

"Call the doctor if you're not better in a couple of days," Dr Brief said, closing his briefcase. "This conference will be a little dull, so I'm almost jealous that I didn't get sick too!"

"I've made lots of reheatable food so you and Vegeta don't starve while I'm gone. Make sure you let him know." Mrs Briefs kissed the top of Bulma's head. "Feel better soon."

Bulma sighed in relief once her parents left. She loved her parents, but they still fussed over her like a child when she was ill. They were off to Europe for the next few weeks, so at least Bulma would be able to get better in peace.

Bulma finished her drink, then looked at the clock. It was mid-afternoon. Plenty of time to have a nap and sleep it off before joining Vegeta at one in the morning as usual.

* * *

Bulma woke to a darkened room and the sound of someone else breathing. A shadowy figure stood in the doorway and Bulma let out a shriek and threw a pillow at it. The pillow fell short, and the shadow turned the bedroom light on.

Bulma blinked at the sudden light, trying to clear her vision.

"What's wrong with you?" Vegeta's nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Nothing," Bulma said, the word coming out all stuffy. "It's just a cold."

"It's not cold in here." Vegeta glanced around the room. "If anything, it's too warm."

"No, I _have_ a cold." Bulma shook her head, then regretted it as a headache in her left temple formed.

Vegeta still looked confused.

"I'm sick," she snapped.

"Sick." Vegeta took a step back.

"It's not that bad. I just need some rest." Bulma looked at the clock and realised it was just after two in the morning. Vegeta must have thought she'd stood him up. She wouldn't have thought he'd normally bother coming to find her, but he'd been acting on edge since the incident with Yamcha.

Bulma adjusted the remaining pillow on the bed behind her neck and sank back into it, closing her eyes. "I'll be fine in a couple of days."

"I will see you when you are no longer cold then," Vegeta said.

Bulma's eyes snapped open. "You jerk! My parents are away. You should look after me."

"No thank you." Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not a doctor. I kill and torture people. I do not nurse them back to health. And you look disgusting."

"Fuck you!" Bulma shouted at him, then started to cough. "I helped you when you blew up the GR and nearly killed yourself."

"I didn't ask for your help. I'm not coming near you. I can smell the germs coming off you." Vegeta took another step back, turned off the light, then left the room, closing the door behind him.

Bulma opened her mouth to start yelling at him as he walked down the hall, but she started coughing again. Any help she got from that arsehole Saiyan would probably be useless anyway. He'd make her exercise to sweat it out or something crazy.

Bulma rolled over and put the pillow over her head. She'd be fine after some sleep.

* * *

Vegeta kicked out at a bot, sending it careening to the other side of the gravity room. The other two circled him, firing at the same time and forcing him to leap into the air - not an easy task at five hundred times Earth's gravity. Vegeta landed, but his left knee buckled, forcing him to roll out of the way of another blast.

Vegeta grit his teeth then pushed himself up. He leapt straight for one of the bots just as the warning light to fire brightened. He attempted to swing out of the way in mid-air, but a sputter of ki from the house made him flinch, throwing him off balance. The blast got the side of his arm, scorching his skin.

"Fuck!" Vegeta used the Eathling swear word with venom. "Bots disengage," he called out, using the verbal kill switch Bulma had installed a while ago. He dragged himself to his feet, then stared at his hands. They were shaking. "Get your shit together," he told himself. He'd heard it in a movie and the character seemed to get some strength from it. Vegeta's hands kept trembling and a familiar craving washed over him. It had been over a year since he'd killed anything but a mosquito and his body wasn't happy about it.

The woman's ki fluctuated again, and Vegeta stumbled forward, leaning on a wall for support. Her ki was all over the place and on top of his bloodlust issue it was driving him crazy.

He left the GR and had a shower, and after roughly bandaging up his arm went to check in on her. _Not_ because he was concerned about her - if she said she'd be fine in a couple of days, she would be. She knew far more about human illnesses than he ever would. But while Vegeta might not be able to go on a killing spree without leaving the planet, he could do something about her ki.

Bulma's room was dark when he entered. It was late morning but her curtains were drawn. She didn't move as he approached, so he listened out for her breathing. It seemed regular enough.

Vegeta knelt beside the bed and peered at her. She was wrapped in blankets with only her face peeking out. A sheen of sweat covered her forehead but he could see her shivering. Maybe a cold really did mean she was too cold.

Holding his breath - Vegeta didn't want to breathe in whatever revolting illness she had - he cautiously touched her forehead with his finger. He pulled a face at its slippery touch. She felt warm though, not cold. Very warm. Vegeta experimentally touched his own forehead. He normally ran a little hotter than her, but she was definitely warmer than him.

"Bulma?" He whispered.

She moaned in reply, but seemed to remain asleep.

Vegeta spotted her phone on the bedside table and picked it up. She used it to look up answers to random questions all the time. Surely this device could tell him what to do. He pushed the round button at the bottom of the black screen. It came up with the words 'swipe to unlock'.

"Swipe?" Vegeta tried swiping the phone through the air. Nothing happened. There was a bar with a circle on it. He tapped it and the circle moved a little. Realising what the phone wanted him to do, he placed a finger on the circle and dragged it across the screen. "Ridiculous contraption," he muttered, staring at all the little boxes with images on it. "This could take a while..." He took a seat on the bed next to Bulma and started tapping the screen.

* * *

Bulma woke to glaring sunlight pouring in her room. She sat up in bed, groggily holding her forehead. She frowned down at what she was wearing. Somehow she'd changed from the flannel pyjamas she'd put on last night to a short nightgown. The sheets also felt like they'd been changed. Had her mother come back from her trip?

On Bulma's bedside table was a glass of water and a damp cloth. Someone had definitely been in here helping her. She closed her eyes, trying to recall the night. Bulma vaguely remembered strong arms helping her out of bed and a rough voice whispering nonsense to her in another language. _Vegeta_?

Bulma climbed out of bed, surprised at how good she felt. She was still a little sniffly, but her headache was gone and she didn't feel feverish anymore.

After a shower to wash off the remnant feeling of being sick, Bulma got dressed and went in search of her alien houseguest. He wasn't in his room, the kitchen, or the gravity room. Bulma stood in the living room, wishing she could sense ki. Where the heck was he?

* * *

Vegeta stood amongst lush, green trees, the humid air sticking to his skin. He'd flown part way around the world to get here, and it had left him feeling more tired than it should have, but he was determined to see this through.

Vegeta sensed the ki of several animals around him, and closed his eyes to hone in on one in particular. It was powerful for a creature that wasn't sentient. It wouldn't be much of a match, but Vegeta hoped it would be enough for his purpose. Otherwise he was going to have to stalk through the underbelly of a city and find someone that even that do-gooder Kakarot wouldn't begrudge him for killing.

Vegeta had managed to get Bulma's ki back to normal with a combination of advice from her mobile contraption and giving her some of his ki. To his frustration, it hadn't helped him in the end. His whole body shook, and his senses were so enhanced it was painful. They were normal side effects of the bloodlust, but in the last few hours he'd also been feeling dizzy, with moments of feeling freezing cold, then boiling hot. That wasn't usual. Maybe he shouldn't have parted with any of his own ki.

There was a faint rustling in the underbrush. With his hearing heightened, it sounded like a tornado ripping through the trees. Vegeta opened his eyes and peered in the direction of the sound. There was no breeze, or any other sign of movement. But even if he couldn't have sensed the animal's ki, he could hear it's slow, steady heartbeat. As the heartbeat escalated, Vegeta tensed, ready for what was coming.

But the animal didn't attack him like he was expecting. It leapt from the bushes - a blur of black and orange - but landed directly in front of the Saiyan, staring at him with its golden eyes. The creature was lithe in build, and as it took a step forward, its muscles rippled with a gracefulness that had Vegeta captivated. He couldn't look away from the animal's gaze. He knew that humans were the only sentient beings on the planet, but whatever this animal was, it seemed to hold the knowledge of the universe in its eyes.

When it pounced, Vegeta drove himself forward, tackling the animal mid-air. They fell to the damp ground in a sweating heap of flying claws and punches that connected more with the air and surrounding bushes than anything else. Vegeta fought the urge to use his ki. That would be too easy, and he needed the physical exchanging of blows more than anything.

To his surprise, without Vegeta using his ki the creature proved to be a worthy opponent. Within less than a minute it had Vegeta pinned down with its heavy paws, its snarling face just above him and ready to rip out the jugular in his neck. Chest heaving for air, Vegeta shoved the animal upward and used the movement to roll out from under it. He got to his feet, wiping blood out of his eyes. Vegeta wasn't sure whose blood it was, but the metallic smell in the air made his skin itch.

He and the animal circled each other warily. Vegeta was the first one to lunge this time. He went in for a punch to the animal's throat, blocking a pawful of knife-sharp claws with his arm to do so. The animal fell back, but Vegeta's forearm now had shred-marks down it. They both kept at it, until the dizziness Vegeta had been fighting took over and he fell to the ground. The creature took advantage, going in for the kill with its teeth, but Vegeta shot a hand upwards, into the animal's chest.

The warm, slippery heart continued beating in his hand. Vegeta stared into its yellow eyes and he tugged hard, and the beast collapsed on top of him, unmoving. Vegeta struggled out from under the black and orange fur, and curled into a ball on the ground. His shaking slowed, his hearing dulled to almost nothing, then his skin stopped itching and then finally... finally... the screaming in his head begging him to maim, to destroy, to _kill_ , subsided.

Vegeta sat up groggily, still dizzy and unusually cold given the warm temperature. He reached out a hand and touched the creature he had killed. There were plenty of humans more deserving of death than this beast. But no one should have needed to die at all. He was a monster with an insatiable appetite for death.

He'd killed so many in his lifetime, but this time there was little gain, except for his own sanity, and that would be temporary at best. Bulma had been right when she'd pointed out that he hadn't killed anyone innocent since he'd been wished back. But now? Even though this was an animal, Vegeta felt like that was no longer true.

He stroked the creature's wiry fur with his bloodied hand in a daze, unsure of how much time was passing. All he knew was that for the first time since he'd had died at Frieza's hand, Vegeta desperately wished he'd stayed dead.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

Bulma sat on the reading nook ledge of a bay window, enjoying the sun streaming in as she flipped through this month's scientific journal. Her metal alloy featured in it, accompanied by a photo of her that had taken a three hour photo shoot to get.

Bulma felt a little guilty at getting all the credit since Vegeta was the one who'd cracked the math she needed, but what was she supposed to tell the journalist? That her alien houseguest who once came to Earth intending to destroy it was also a math genius who used mathematical concepts from other planets to help her with her work? When he wasn't training in martial arts to save the world or maybe destroy it because he hadn't quite decided yet?

Bulma chuckled to herself. She could just imagine their faces if she blurted that out. They'd either chalk it up to scientific eccentricity or have her committed. But even if she had given Vegeta credit, he wasn't around to read the article. She hadn't seen him since she'd woken up yesterday, and there hadn't even been any sign of his usual mess in the kitchen.

A sound outside made her look through the window. There was Vegeta, standing in the middle of the yard, as if he'd never left. Bulma scowled to herself. He came and went as if he owned Capsule Corp himself.

As she stayed watching Vegeta though, she began to realise something was wrong. He swayed slightly, and even from this distance she could make out the blood on him. When he collapsed to the ground, Bulma threw her journal to the floor, leapt off the nook and ran to the front door.

She dashed across the lawn, dropping to her knees beside him. His training suit was tattered and he was covered in dirt and dried leaves as if he'd been rolling around on the ground. One of his arms had large gashes down it and his hands were covered in blood, but he didn't seem to have any other injuries. His eyes were open, but his gaze was hazy and unfocused.

"What happened?" she asked, reaching out to touch his cheek. She pulled back with a gasp. His skin was hot to the touch.

"It didn't work." Vegeta's words came out slightly slurred. He blinked a few times then met her gaze. "I thought it had, because I don't want... I don't need to kill... but now I feel like I'm dying."

He fumbled for her hand with his own, which was covered in dried blood that didn't seem to be his. Bulma flinched at the heat of his touch, but didn't pull away.

"I think I deserve to."

His hand shook, and Bulma squeezed it, fighting back tears. "Don't ever say that," she said fiercely.

Vegeta took in a wheezing breath then started coughing with an awful hacking sound that had a similar sound to hers only a couple of days ago.

"Oh, shit." It suddenly all made sense. Bulma rolled Vegeta onto his side and started rubbing his back. Vegeta didn't grow up on Earth so he had no immunity to the planet's common illnesses. By looking after her, Vegeta had got himself sick - and probably much sicker than she had been. He had a fever, and although Bulma didn't know how high was too high for a Saiyan she had to guess that he was feverish enough to be disoriented.

"It's okay." Bulma kept holding one of his hands, and use her other hand to pull out her phone. "You're just sick - like I was. Remember?"

Confusion crossed Vegeta's face. "Sick? I'm not..." His voice faded and his eyes rolled back.

"Vegeta?" Bulma squeezed his hand, and when he didn't respond grabbed the front of his shirt and shook him. "Vegeta!"

* * *

Vegeta spat on the white tiles, creating a red splatter across their pristine surface. One of his cracked ribs must have punctured a lung, because every breath caused intense chest pain, and no matter how much air he sucked in, it wasn't enough. He let out a choking gasp as a large purple hand wrapped itself around his neck and lifted him off the ground, making breathing even harder.

"I've brought you a present, my pet," a smooth voice whispered into his ear. "A friend to play with. You've been keeping her a secret from me." The monster's other hand trailed down Vegeta's cheek gently, making him flinch. "You know how I feel about not sharing."

Vegeta clawed at the hand and kicked out, but he was too weak to do any damage to the monster. He was always too weak.

The door to the chamber opened with a hiss, and in came a soldier, dragging a woman behind him. She was young – almost a girl. On Earth she would have been in her late teens. But to Vegeta she was achingly familiar. Like the soldier, she wore the armour of Frieza's army, but hers was tattered, as if she'd just been in a fight.

Vegeta squeezed his eyes shut. This had to be a dream. Frieza was dead... wasn't he? But when he opened them again, the woman was thrown in front of them, her black and red streaked hair cascading on the tiles as her head hit the ground with a thud.

She lifted her head weakly, her eyes widening when she saw him. "Vegeta!" She fixed a furious gaze on the monster holding him. "Lord Frieza! Let him go. Vegeta hasn't done anything wrong!"

No, not a dream. A memory from years ago. And Vegeta was powerless to stop it unfolding.

The soldier who had brought her in jabbed her with a large stick with a metal end. The woman screamed as electricity charged through her body. Vegeta tried to cry out, but he couldn't breathe. Frieza grinned at him then wrapped his tail around Vegeta's chest, keeping him upright. He let go of his throat and Vegeta attempted to suck in air.

"Kalyana..." Vegeta fought back hot tears as she struggled to her feet. Her eyes, black like his, met his gaze. She wasn't a Saiyan but she was a true warrior. No fear for herself was in her eyes. Just fear for him.

"You say Vegeta has done no wrong?" Frieza bared his teeth at Kalyana. "You've been passing information onto the resistance. Vegeta has been fucking you. He must have known what you were doing."

"No!" Kalyana shook her head. "I swear, he knew nothing."

"If he knew nothing, then he is an even bigger idiot than I thought." Frieza turned to Vegeta, his mouth set in a smirk. "Saiyan's were always a brainless troop, but I thought you had _some_ common sense." He leaned close, so Vegeta could feel the purple lizard's breath on his face. "Did you know?"

Of course he knew. He had even helped Kalyana a few times. Distracting security, rearranging deployment schedules, even passing coded messages himself. She did it because she thought the resistance would win. Vegeta knew they never would, but did it anyway, just to see the look on her face when he helped her.

"No," he said. It felt like a betrayal, even though relief was evident in Kalyana's eyes.

"Very well then." Frieza unwrapped his tail, sending Vegeta crumpling to the ground. "The resistance is dead anyway. Kill her and any part you may or may not have played in this will be forgotten."

"No!" Vegeta cried out.

A sharp kick to his stomach sent him skidding across the room and slamming into a wall before he could say anything else.

When he looked up, Frieza was already standing over him, a three-toed foot pressing down in his right leg, just below his knee. "You've always been my favourite, Vegeta. I think of you as a son. So, when I tell you to kill her, it is only because I care."

The foot lifted slightly before pressing down with a sudden force. Vegeta heard the crack before he felt the pain. When he let out a gargled scream, Kalyana scrambled towards him.

Frieza stepped back, letting her hug Vegeta. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and Vegeta leaned into her, smelling her earthy scent even through all the blood in the room.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Kalyana picked up one of Vegeta's limp hands and placed it against her chest. "Make it quick. They will kill me no matter what. It would be an honour to die at the hands of the Prince of all Saiyans."

Vegeta let out a half sob, half laugh. "Kalyana... I cannot."

"You can. You are a survivor." Her voice dropped even lower, so he had to strain to hear it. "Avenge your people. Avenge me. The resistance may be over, but while you live, I shall always have hope."

Vegeta's hand shook against her chest. She was right. They would torture her for hours before letting her die if he didn't do this. He had killed many before... too many to count. Why was this so hard?

"May we meet again, my Prince." Kalyana closed her eyes and Vegeta powered up his ki.

He screamed when he fired, killing her instantly.

He kept screaming when they ripped her out of his arms.

Frieza sat down next to Vegeta and pulled him into a grip that he couldn't escape from. "It's okay, my boy." He stroked Vegeta's hair, and no matter how much he struggled, Vegeta couldn't break away. "You did the right thing."


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

 **38.5°C is 101.3°F. 44°C is 111.2°F.**

* * *

Vegeta lay in his bed, a nebuliser mask over his mouth and nose. He breathed into it raggedly. With the blood cleaned off and his arm bandaged he looked better than he had when he first came back to Capsule Corp. Even so, sweat beaded on his forehead and his face crumpled with discomfort, and he hadn't woken since he'd collapsed outside.

Bulma had managed to get hold of the same doctor who had treated him after the GR explosion that happened not long after Vegeta started living with her. At least this doctor had an idea of Vegeta's unusual characteristics, but even she seemed at a loss as to why his temperature wasn't dropping. She'd hooked Vegeta up to a machine that monitored his heart rate and temperature. The constant beeping set Bulma on edge.

"Will he be ok?" she asked the doctor.

"If I hadn't seen the way he pulled through from that explosion, I'd be warning you that he might not make it through the night." She looked at her paperwork. "What did you say his temperature normally sits at?"

"Thirty-eight point five." Bulma chewed her lip. When she'd rang Chi Chi to find out what was a normal temperature for a Saiyan she'd confirmed that Goku and Gohan both ran a little hot, but neither of them had ever had fevers this high.

The doctor glanced at the machine. "He's still hovering just below forty-four. That would kill a human. Anything over forty causes hallucinations. Much higher and the convulsions set in."

"What can I do?" Bulma dabbed Vegeta's forehead with a damp cloth.

"What you're doing. Keep him cool. If he wakes up and is lucid enough, get him into a lukewarm shower and make him air dry. He won't be happy about it, but it should help." She started packing up her medical bag, but hesitated before zipping it up. She looked at Bulma. "Are you sure you'll be okay? I can send around a nurse for the night."

Bulma took Vegeta's hand in hers and smiled. "I'll be fine. I've looked after this idiot plenty of times when he's been injured."

The doctor still looked doubtful, but zipped up her bag. "Call me if his temperature goes up more than half a degree. I'll come by tomorrow morning."

Once the doctor left, Bulma settled into a chair at Vegeta's side, attempting to keep him cool. He shivered and tried to pull the blankets over him, but Bulma kept a cloth on his head and stripped off any heavy blankets.

After about an hour, Bulma thought Vegeta was waking up. He stirred and pulled off the nebuliser mask, then started talking in another language. Normally, Bulma liked it when Vegeta talked to her in one of the many alien tongues he knew. It brought out the accent in his voice more, and he only ever used them a fit of passion. For Vegeta, that was either when he was arguing with her, or sometimes, if she was persistent enough, she could get him to use another language the same way she got him to cry out her name.

Now though, the fact that she couldn't understand him frightened her. Most of what he said was unintelligible, but one word came through clearly, although Bulma didn't know what it meant. It sounded like 'kahl-yah-nah'. He said it several times, each one sounding more distressed than the last. What if he was asking for help and she didn't know what he was asking? There was something in his tone too that concerned her. Vegeta sounded genuinely scared in his ramblings. He was _never_ scared - even when on the edge of death due to injuries. What could he be dreaming about that had the Prince of all Saiyans terrified?

A knock at the door made Bulma jump. One of her lab technicians opened the door and peaked in.

He looked nervously at Vegeta, who mumbled something in his sleep. Seeing that the prince was actually asleep and not talking to him, he turned to Bulma. "You wanted to know as soon as the blood results were back?"

"Yes. You have them?"

The technician pushed up the glasses on his nose. "Yes. The blood wasn't human."

Bulma breathed a sigh of relief. She knew the chances of Vegeta coming home covered in human blood were slim, but in his disoriented state she hadn't been sure. "What sort of blood was it?"

"Some kind a feline." The technician cast another anxious glance at Vegeta prone, groaning form. "Do you... uh... want me to find out more details?"

"No, that will be all."

The technician scurried out and Bulma leaned forward in her chair to rest her head on the side of Vegeta's bed. "What on Earth were you doing?" she wondered, taking Vegeta's hand again. It burned and shook, but she held it steady as he muttered in his sleep.

Just after midnight, Vegeta calmed down and went back into a peaceful slumber. Bulma readjusted the mask over his face, then took the opportunity to run down to her lab and bring back the laptop that Vegeta had unencrypted his chip on.

Bulma settled back into the chair beside Vegeta's bed, her fingers paused over the keys. Vegeta didn't know and would probably kill her if he found out - or at least do a lot worse than put frogs in her room - but Bulma had created a backup of his chip before he'd taken it back. At the time, she was thinking about the amount of scientific knowledge he had that she would lose if or when Vegeta decided to take back off into space. She wanted it now for a different reason. What if there was something on there that had the key to why his temperature wouldn't go down? Or what he was dreaming about so she could help him through this?

Ignoring the guilt in her gut, Bulma started looking through the folders. She didn't bother with any of the text files since she couldn't read them, but she pulled up every photo and video she could find.

There were a lot of different photos. Some were of different alien landscapes. They were shot by someone who knew enough about lighting and angles to get the best possible picture. Bulma wondered who'd taken them. Vegeta didn't seem like the type to appreciate the beauty of a place long enough to take a photo. Then again, he didn't seem like the kind of man to enjoy mathematics or cooking.

There were also photos of machinery and engines, with close-ups of serial numbers, as well as photographs of what looked like different laboratories and further photos of paperwork on desks. These were taken by someone with less skill than the landscapes. They were taken by someone in a hurry. Maybe these were the files that Vegeta said were treasonous. They did seem very James Bond. Perhaps Vegeta was spying on Frieza's activities. But for whom?

Some photos contained people. There were a lot of alien races, but a few faces reoccurred throughout them. Nappa was in a couple, while Vegeta and Raditz were in a large number. Vegeta looked young in many of them - in his very early twenties, maybe even in his late teens. He was smaller back then. Not shorter necessarily, but leaner, wirier. But even in the photos she could see he carried himself with the same military precision and arrogance as he did now.

There were two other faces that showed up almost as often as the Saiyans. They were both humanoid in appearance, wore similar armour to the Saiyans, and had burnt-caramel coloured skin. One of them was a very tall man with blood-red hair. Unlike everyone else in the photos, this man had a perpetual grin in his face, even when not looking at the camera.

The other was a woman who looked a little younger than Vegeta. She had similar facial features to the man, but she was short - even shorter than Vegeta. Her dark hair had red streaks in it that were the same shade as the tall man. But it wasn't her looks that made Bulma unable to look away from her photos. No, in several the photos it was how she was posed in relation to Vegeta that had her captivated. In one photo, Vegeta had his arm around her and was saying something in her ear. She leant into him, her hand reaching up, as if to touch his face. In another, Vegeta sat on a log, and she sat on the grass in front of him. He wasn't looking at her - he seemed to be talking to Raditz - but his hand was entangled with hers. She found a few more photos and yes, there was no doubt about it, they were definitely an item.

That liar! When she'd asked if he'd ever dated anyone, he'd said... Bulma frowned, trying to recall if he'd actually said he'd never been with anyone seriously. No, what he _had_ said was he never stayed anywhere long enough to get to know the planets inhabitants. He seems to know this woman well enough though, and from the backgrounds of the photos it looked like it was because they went on missions to various planets together.

Bulma looked up from her laptop at the man lying in bed beside her. She'd thought she was beginning to understand a bit about his past, but it looked like even after all those late night conversations, she'd barely begun to scratch the surface.

Bulma began trawling through video footage. There was a lot of footage that must have been taken from security cameras given the high angles. Most held no meaning to her, but she assumed must have held some value to Vegeta. There were several videos filming what looked like experiments on Frieza's soldiers, again all shot on security cameras. Most experiments all seemed to involve surgery of some kind, with patients being forced to endure it while awake and without any kind of pain relief.

She stopped when she got to one with Vegeta on screen. He sat on a gurney, his legs swinging in the air, the perfect picture of nonchalance. When Bulma looked closely though, she could see his hands gripping the side of the gurney tighter than necessary, and when the doctor asked him to lie down and brought out a scalpel, even through the grainy footage she could see Vegeta's breaths quicken and his eyes widen.

Bulma paused the video, feeling ill. It might hold a clue to his condition now, but she didn't think she could watch Vegeta go under the knife, especially knowing he went through it feeling every incision. Even her scientific curiosity couldn't override the nausea she had at the knowledge of what Vegeta had gone through.

She clicked on the next video. This one had the woman from the photographs with Vegeta. Based on all the descriptions she'd had of Frieza, it also looked like the purple lizard was in it. After checking to see that Vegeta was still asleep, Bulma turned up the volume and played it.

The woman knelt on the ground in front of Frieza, her head bent, long hair streaming in front of her face.

"Kalyana," the lizard said.

Bulma inhaled sharply, recognising the word as the one Vegeta had been crying out. Was it the woman's name?

The woman on screen looked up, her expression impassive except for a fire in her eyes that even the grainy footage managed to capture.

Frieza said something else, and when she didn't respond kicked out, sending her sprawling. Frieza said 'Kalyana' again, along with a string of words that may have included a curse word she'd heard Vegeta use a few times. Yes, it was definitely the woman's name.

Frieza continued questioning Kalyana, responding violently when she didn't reply. Kalyana barely said two words in reply no matter how hard Frieza struck her. Then a cruel smile crept onto Frieza's face. He said a few sentences, then mentioned Vegeta's name. At that Kalyana's composure began to crack. She started responding more vehemently each time Vegeta was mentioned. The fire in her eyes intensified and she struck out at Frieza, to no avail.

Then footage ended, abruptly, as if someone had cut the feed. Bulma closed her laptop, and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. There were no photos of Kalyana and Vegeta past their early twenties that Bulma had seen. And from the footage she saw, it was probably safe to bet that Kalyana was no longer alive.

Vegeta stirred beside her. He groaned, his eyes fluttering to reveal the whites of them. Bulma set her laptop to the side, and leaned over him.

"Vegeta?" she whispered.

He grunted in response but didn't open his eyes properly. Bulma dipped the cloth into a bowl of cold water, squeezed it out, then used it to wipe his forehead. Vegeta sighed at the cool touch, and when she set the cloth to the side, he cracked an eye open and pulled off the mask from his face.

"I'm not dead," he said, his voice raspy.

"Not yet," Bulma replied, unable to hide her relief at hearing his voice speak in words she understood. "How do you feel?"

"Like I'm dying." He coughed, then sucked in a wheezing breath. "You made me cold." He coughed again and Bulma sat on the edge of his bed to help him sit up. He leaned forward, his shoulders shaking with each cough, each breath after sounding weaker and weaker. Bulma handed him a drink of water. He took it with a trembling hand and skulled it back. It seemed to help his cough, but he still sounded wheezy. Bulma handed him the nebuliser mask and Vegeta held it to his face, sucking in air and the medication. He leaned into her shoulder, resting there while his body shivered.

"I _gave_ you my cold." Bulma couldn't resist correcting him. "And you said you weren't going to help me. You were right, you shouldn't have. I didn't think about you not having any immunity."

Vegeta glared at her and moved the mask away from his face. "I've survived countless battles..." He gasped for air. "I survived _Frieza_..." Bulma tries to get him to stop talking but he kept at it. "I come to this planet and you... kill me with a _cold_." He laughed, then started coughing again. "I fucking hate irony."

"You're not dead yet," Bulma said. "We need to get you into a shower. It's the fever that's making you feel so ill so we need to cool you down."

Bulma helped him swing his legs over the side of the bed and stand up. "Ugh, you're so heavy." She gasped as she bore most of his weight when he leaned on her. If this was going to be a regular thing, she'd better start going to the gym again. "You are going to have to help me out here. Have you thought about going on a diet? Muscle weighs more than fat. I'm going to feed you up on ice cream and baked goods as soon as you are better."

Vegeta groaned in response, but managed to take some of the weight back off her. They took slow steps towards the bathroom connecting to his room. When they got there, Vegeta lunged for the toilet, just managing to get his head over the bowl as he threw up.

"Also a symptom of a fever," Bulma said helpfully as she started the shower.

Vegeta lifted his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I fucking hate you."

"You're going to hate me more in about two minutes. Take your t-shirt off." Bulma helped him lift it over his head, having to do most of the work for him. She swore internally as his eyes became less focussed. He was going to crash again. While he was lucid enough to do as she said, she managed to help him into the shower. He whimpered at the lukewarm water, which must have felt icy on his burning skin, and tried to back out of the shower.

"Oh no you don't. You need to cool down." Bulma blocked the shower door.

Vegeta's knees buckled, and Bulma caught him, getting her hair wet in the process. Vegeta's eyes had closed, and she slapped the side of his face gently. "Don't go to sleep on me please. I'm not hauling your ass back into bed by myself."

Vegeta struggled in her arms, swearing in whichever language seemed to be his favourite. Shit, he was out of it again. When she didn't let go, Vegeta shoved her, hard.

Bulma went careening through the shower door, sending glass everywhere.

She landed on the bathroom floor, up against the bathroom cabinet. Bulma touched the back of her aching head, and her fingers came away red and sticky. She groaned and started a mental checklist of all her body parts. Everything else felt fine, minus a few scratches. She hauled herself to her feet and checked the bathroom mirror, wiping away the steam to peer at her reflection. Other than a tiny nick to her forehead, her face was unscathed.

She turned to check on Vegeta. He lay on the floor of the shower, shaking uncontrollably. Bulma used a towel to push the broken glass out of the way on the floor, then turned off the shower, letting the cooling air do its job.

There were still some bandages left over from when the doctor had wrapped Vegeta's arm, so she used that to bandage up her head. There was a decent amount of blood, but she knew head wounds always looked worse than they did. Still, if she needed stiches and had to shave her head, she'd kill Vegeta herself.

She grabbed the thermometer from the bedroom, then went back into the bathroom to check his temperature. He barely moved when put the thermometer in his ear. Forty-two point seven. She let out a relieved sigh.

"S'cold," Vegeta mumbled. He lifted his head, blinking at her blearily.

"Your temperature is going down." Bulma leaned against the shower wall, bone weary.

Vegeta's eyes widened as he looked at her and then the shower door. He sat up and scrambled towards her touching her cheek and her bandage with shaking hands but also with such care that Bulma would have found it sweet... well, if he hadn't just shoved her through a glass door.

"I hurt you," he said, his voice cracking.

Kami, those eyes of his. Their black depths burned straight through her soul. Bulma closed her eyes to avoid his lest she burn her alive. "It was an accident."

"It doesn't change what I did."

Vegeta sounded so sad, and so lost. Bulma opened her eyes then leaned forward and embraced him. "You're sick, Vegeta. A high fever causes hallucinations. You didn't know what you were doing."

Vegeta shook his head against her chest. "I knew what I was doing. I knew and I killed her anyway."

"Kami, that escalated quickly." Bulma sighed. Talking to a sane, rational Vegeta was hard enough. This one was impossible. "Nobody's killed anyone today. Let's get you better, okay? Then we can worry about everything else."

This was going to be a _long_ night.

* * *

 **A/N: That was a long scene! I wrote half of it then it didn't save properly so I had to rewrite it too. I'm not sure it was as good writing it the second time round, but I guess I'll never know. For those of you who have asked how I update so quickly, I have the rest of this story plotted out, so it feels a little like colouring in a picture. Thanks for all of your reviews so far, getting them definitely encourages me to keep updating quickly!**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

Vegeta stood outside on Bulma's balcony. He could hear her moving about inside and see her shadow through the curtains. It had taken him nine days to recover from the illness that struck him down, three days to attempt to go back to training anyway (it didn't end well), and one day of seeing Bulma, pale from worry and her head injury, to decide to get off Earth as fast as possible.

He _had_ to leave, both for himself and her. He kept giving himself excuses - he wasn't better yet, her family was still away and she was still getting headaches, he needed to pack supplies... But the older Briefs were due back the day after tomorrow, and he was feeling fine. Vegeta wanted to leave before Dr Briefs came back and asked him to.

Bulma's silhouette sat on the end of her bed. Vegeta reached out and touched the door handle. Yes, he would leave. But not tonight... not quite yet.

* * *

Bulma knew Vegeta was on her balcony before he opened the door. She couldn't hear or see him, but every time he was near, she could feel his presence. She'd felt it less since he'd started to get better. He'd been avoiding her. No late-night kitchen visits, no trips to her lab to help with a math problem, and worst of all, no sex.

Bulma closed her eyes, enjoying the warm sensation she got whenever he was close by. Was this what it felt like to read someone's ki? Kami, she'd _missed_ him and he hadn't left Capsule Corp.

She wanted to talk to him as well, although she wasn't sure how she'd bring up Kalyana without him losing his shit about her copying the chip and going through his personal files. Even if she could bring it up, he barely said two words to her if she managed to track him down. When she'd scolded him for pushing himself by training again too soon, he hadn't even bothered responding.

"How do you feel?" Bulma asked when he finally opened the door and entered her room. She concentrated her hands, which she was rubbing cream into.

He didn't reply, so Bulma sighed and looked up at him. He looked better than he had a few days ago, but he'd lost some weight during his illness, and his face was drawn. Those dark circles under his eyes were back and there was something desperate in his expression.

Bulma set aside the hand creme and waited. After a long moment, he stalked towards her as if she was his prey, until he stood in front of her.

She took in a sharp breath as he slowly used one of his legs to separate hers and moved so he stood in between them. When he cupped her face with his hands and leaned forward, she fought the urge to lunge at him.

"Like I'm dying," he said. Bulma didn't have time to register that he was answering her question before he kissed her, softly at first, almost like he had the first time. When Bulma grabbed the front of his shirt to pull him closer, he deepened it, leaning into her with a groan until they tipped backwards onto the bed.

* * *

She tasted like strawberries. Even though she'd rubbed all the crap off her face that she usually caked herself in, her lips still tasted like strawberries. He devoured her greedily, trying to etch the taste of her onto him.

After letting himself drown in the kiss, he pulled back, hovering over her. Without makeup, he could see a spattering of freckled on her nose. Her blue eyes didn't drop their gaze from his, and for once she didn't open her mouth to try interrupt things with her ceaseless babbling.

Her curly hair sat in fluffy clouds sprawled out on the bed. He reached out and ran his fingers through it. She hadn't needed stitches for the injury he had caused, for which Vegeta was grateful. He didn't think she'd have forgiven him if she'd had to have shaved part of her hair.

Not that he'd come close to forgiving himself.

He was also grateful because he liked her hair. He liked the feel of it, and how she wore it in an ever-changing array of hairstyles that were as varied as her moods at times.

He would miss this when he left, he decided. The quiet moments where it didn't matter that she was human, that there was an apocalypse around the corner, that she had a company to run... that he needed to kill to stay sane.

She had forgiven him for everything. The sins of his past didn't matter to her. The fact that he had hurt her, twice now, and would do so again, didn't matter to her. But would she forgive him when he left her tomorrow?

Vegeta bent to kiss her again, relishing in the soft sounds she made under him and he moved from her mouth to her ear, to her neck. Forgiveness was tomorrow's problem.

* * *

Bulma shivered as his hand roamed on her left thigh, moving in in soft circles from her knee and then upwards. It should have been ticklish but Vegeta somehow knew the exact amount of pressure to apply. His fingers scraped the edge of her silk dressing gown and hovered there, tantalisingly close to where she wanted him to be, but far enough to make her groan in frustration.

They shouldn't be doing this. _She_ shouldn't be doing this. Bulma gasped as he kissed his way down her neck, dragging each one out so she writhed underneath him. They should be talking about what happened when he was sick. She had to make sure he knew it wasn't his fault. All words left her though, and she let out a moan as his mouth found the very top of her breast, just above the neckline of her gown. She'd told him she didn't blame him, but even if he had believed her, she knew he still blamed himself.

She needed to talk to him, but when he touched her like _that..._

she forgot...

everything.

* * *

He could tell she wanted to say something. Probably lots of somethings. She kept opening her mouth and taking in a breath to do so, but every time she did, he distracted her by kissing her where it made her gasp, or touching her to make her squirm.

The last thing Vegeta wanted to do was talk.

His fingers found the edge of the thin material she had wrapped around her. It was incredibly smooth and slippery. An odd garment - what good would it do in protecting her from the elements? It was also very short, and if she wore anything underneath it was skimpy enough that he couldn't see it. Vegeta was less inclined to complain about that.

He shifted over her, leaning onto one arm to hunt for the tie holding the material closed with his spare hand. After some fumbling, he found it and unknotted it with one hand. The material around her loosened, revealing bare skin peeking through. He pried the material apart and shuffled down the bed to kiss her stomach. Then, determined that the only talking she'd be doing was screaming his name, started making his way lower with his mouth, worshipping her body like the queen he wished he could have made her.

* * *

Bulma awoke to the feeling of her bed shaking. She opened her eyes drowsily and glanced around the room. Vegeta was gone. He'd stayed with her for a few hours. They'd never ended up talking - Bulma had fallen asleep - but she got the sense that he would have left the room if she'd tried anyway.

The shaking of her bed increased and Bulma sat up, realising the whole house was shaking and a tremendous ruckus was increasing in volume.

Terrified that the GR had exploded again, Bulma pulled on her dressing gown and ran outside to her balcony to have a look. Dawn had just begun to break, casting its red glow on the lawn. The GR was intact, but now she could hear that the sound originated from the other side of the compound.

"No..." Bulma's breath caught in her throat. "He wouldn't have." She ran through Capsule Corp, praying that she was wrong, and if she wasn't that she could find a way to stop him.

By the time she got there, it was too late. Bulma put her hand over her mouth and stared up, eyes pooling with unshed tears. She'd thought last night was them getting closer again - that today things would be back to normal. Instead, it had been Vegeta's way of saying goodbye.

The ship hurtled into space, leaving nothing but a charred indent in the ground to show that an alien prince had ever been on Earth.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

Fingers shaking, Bulma pressed the keys necessary to ring through to the ship. "Pick up," she whispered, staring at the black screen. If she could only talk to him... She _had_ to convince him to come back.

No response. Bulma cut the connection without leaving a message.

She sat at her desk, breathing shakily. He was gone. He was really gone.

With a sob, she leaned on her arms on her desk and let the tears fall.

* * *

Vegeta stared at the blinking screen. Incoming call. There was only one person that could be. Only one being alive in the entire universe that gave a shit about what he was doing.

His fingers hovered just over the accept button. But he'd left without saying goodbye for a reason. Talking to her now would undo everything. Vegeta closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. The screen went black again.

Before she could call again, and before he could cave to weakness, Vegeta pulled open the console and ripped out the wires necessary to accept an incoming call. Now she could call a thousand times and he wouldn't be able to answer... wouldn't be able to change his mind.

* * *

Bulma didn't know how long she cried for, but it was a lot longer than twenty-two minutes. A new record.

Finally, when her stinging eyes ran out of tears and her thumping headache subsided, Bulma lifted her head and practiced the deep, calming breaths she'd learnt at yoga class last year.

They didn't help.

She was about to leave her office and wallow in her bedroom when she noticed a stack of paper on her desk. On top, a yellow square of paper sat - a handwritten note. She picked it up, feeling a jolt in her stomach at the handwriting.

 _Bulma,_

 _You know why I must leave. I will not come back until I have ascended, and when I do return it will be to destroy the Androids._

 _I leave you these to give you something to do without my riveting company. The first book may help with another product launch. The second you must translate. Being a genius, I'm certain you will accomplish this task. It won't be useful for any equation but it may help you understand._

 _Be warm,_

 _Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans_

Bulma felt her eyes burning again and wiped them angrily. Ugh, even on paper he came across arrogant. She could almost hear his voice as she read it. Almost see his smirk in the word genius.

She picked up the stack of paper and started sifting through. When she realised what the first pages were, she put her hand to her mouth. Vegeta had painstakingly handwritten pages and pages of mathematical equations and dense theories in both the original language and in hers, writing the translations under the original.

The bottom stack of pages was all in the original language. From the characters, Bulma could tell that it was the same language as the mathematics text.

Bulma dialled the ship again.

This time, instead to trying to connect, it went straight to the message service.

Bulma looked into the camera, fighting back her tears again. "Vegeta... come home."

* * *

Space was boring. After over a year on Earth, Vegeta had forgotten the eeriness of it. The only sounds came from the ship, or himself if he felt like having a conversation with the air.

Growing up under Frieza's command, Vegeta had spent more time travelling through space than on planets. He used to enjoy it, because in his pod he was by himself, which meant no beatings, no torture, and no crowds of people to set him on edge.

Only a few days into his trip and Vegeta found it hard to focus on anything but the dullness of it all. He glanced at the comms unit that he'd dismantled. Fixing it was a bad idea. He didn't have a manual for this ship for a start, so he'd probably make it worse. And if he did fix it, the only outcome would be to torture himself with the sight of her.

No, it was better to remain in solitude.

* * *

"You said what?" Bulma stood abruptly and turned to face her father, sending her chair rolling across the room in the process.

Dr Briefs adjusted his glasses. "I... uh... well, Bulma, he hurt you. I simply suggested that if he did anything like that again I'd be asking him to leave."

"It was an _accident_!" Bulma grit her teeth. Her father was at far more risk of being hurt by her now than she ever was by Vegeta. " _You've_ hurt me before - remember when your experiment exploded a couple of years ago and knocked me out? You didn't hear Mom asking you to leave!"

"Well no, but this is different-"

"It is not," Bulma snapped. "He never hurt me on purpose even though he could have done so with his pinkie."

"Bulma, he's not human." Her father swallowed hard under her sharp glare. "Whether he hurt you on purpose or by accident is irrelevant. He could kill you by accident."

"You've never had a problem with Goku, and he's not human either."

"He grew up on Earth," Dr Briefs said, shifting from one foot to the other.

"I'm a grown woman, Dad." She clenched her shaking fists, digging her nails into the palms of her hands. "I make my own decisions. I don't need you butting into my love life! Not that I have one now, because you chased away the man I love into space!"

Dr Briefs froze. "You love him?"

Bulma exhaled slowly, realising what she'd said.

Did she love him? Vegeta drove her wild, both with anger and in bed, but it was more than that. It was those moments when they were bent over an equation, both focussed on the same goal, where they knew what the other was thinking before they knew it themselves. Or when they sat in companionable silence and for once Bulma didn't feel the urge to fill it with words. Or when she would say something scathing and he would fire back an insult so good it made her laugh so hard she forgot she was angry.

"Yes," she said, a small smile forming for the first time in days. "I suppose I do."

* * *

The journey to the Therakard Quadrant was long. Vegeta had set the ship on a direct course to hasten his departure, but he was going to have to alter his course at some point. He sat in front of a large piece of paper, considering it. Vegeta had drawn a map of the region of the galaxy that he'd be travelling through to get there. He knew all the coordinates off by heart and he'd traversed this region often enough to have a good idea of the best routes to take.

His journey would require a couple of stops on the way. He'd need fuel and a lot more food to get him through his time in one of the most dangerous regions of the galaxy. Vegeta wasn't sure, but he suspected a lack of nutrition wouldn't help his ascension. He would be willing to try anything, even starving himself if it meant it achieving his ultimate goal, but Vegeta was nothing if not strategic. He wanted to be prepared for anything, and would need supplies to do it.

Vegeta sketched out a few routes in pencil, plotting out several alternatives. He leaned forward, and traced the routes with a finger, turning his pencil scratches into a map of the stars in his head as he did so. He analysed each possible path based on the spots he'd hit on his last trip into space since they'd be less inclined to be hostile since he'd effectively freed a few planets from Frieza's regime while killing off his soldiers.

His finger paused on top of Fekahra, a small but bustling port planet. Vegeta had stopped there a few times, including while on his unsuccessful trip looking for Kakarot. The planet had been overrun with Frieza's soldiers at the time, but Vegeta made short work of them.

Fekahra would have the supplies he needed, and if he didn't antagonise them would likely give them to him without too much trouble. Not that Vegeta minded trouble - he was itching for it in fact - but he didn't need the distraction.

Yes, that would do. Vegeta adjusted the ship's course then started calculating exactly how many days of training he'd get in before his first stop.

* * *

Bulma heaved into the toilet bowl, tears trickling down her face. She hadn't been able to keep anything down in days. She didn't have time to be ill again. She was still catching up on work from when her and Vegeta were sick.

Plus, being ill would mean resting, and that would mean time alone, and that would mean _thinking_. And that was something Bulma did not want, because thinking always lead back to the same person...

* * *

Get up, eat, train, eat, train, shower, sleep. Get up, eat, train, eat, train, shower, sleep. Get up, eat, train, eat, train, shower, _attempt_ to sleep.

Vegeta put the pillow over his head, wishing the weight would suffocate him. How had he lived with such monotonous routines before? He'd kept strict routines on Earth as well, but that woman had wormed her way into them, filling them with her words, her flowery perfume, and her soft touches.

It would be months before he got to his destination, then who knew how long it would take to ascend.

"Fuck," he mumbled into the pillow.

* * *

"Fuck." Bulma stared at the little blue plus sign, willing it to change. How long had it been since she got her last period? She genuinely couldn't remember - between the product launch, being ill, and then Vegeta leaving, everything felt like a blur.

The blue plus sign remained.

This _couldn't_ be happening. Bulma had no idea when Vegeta would return - if he did at all. She couldn't even get in touch with him since it looked like he'd blocked all incoming calls. She could leave him a message, but couldn't guarantee that he'd check it.

And would he even _care_? Vegeta had never indicated the slightest interest in having children. Not that she had either, but she simply couldn't see Vegeta settling down and playing house. She couldn't see him as a _father_.

Bulma grabbed a third test out of its packet just to be sure.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for all your reviews. For those of you wondering if this is ending soon, the answer is not quite yet. I'd like to take this up to just after the cell saga. I'm a sucker for a happy ending!**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

Fekahra was close enough to switch the ship off auto and manually guide it to his destination. To prepare, Vegeta changed into a t-shirt and pants, figuring that human clothes were less threatening than his Saiyan armour, which was unfortunately associated with Frieza's soldiers. When he entered the planet's atmosphere, he guided the ship towards the capital city and then into the dock. He stepped out of the ship to find eight Fekahran armed guards pointing ki guns at him.

They didn't pose a threat to him and Vegeta wanted supplies, not a fight, so he fought the urge to blast their guns to get them out of his face. Fekahrans were a generally peaceful people, best known for their literature and music and not well suited for combat. All the guards were shorter than Vegeta - a rarity for him. They were also wider than him, their bright red flesh falling over them in rounded layers.

The guard at the front wore captain stripes on his shoulders. He took one look at Vegeta and paled, clearly suspecting who was standing before him, but kept his gun steady. "State your name, planet, and reason for your visit," he said in Fekahran.

Vegeta sighed. Even without his Saiyan armour it appeared he was easily recognisable. Now that meant playing nice instead of going under the radar. Playing nice wasn't exactly his forte.

"Prince Vegeta of Planet Vegeta," he replied in the same language, wishing, not for the first time, that Saiyan royals were more imaginative in their naming of children. "I require fuel and supplies - specifically rations for six months, ideally high in protein. I could also do with repair tools for compatible with my ship in case of future damage."

The captain's face hardened as Vegeta confirmed who he was. Vegeta started to clench his fists defensively, but forced himself to relax them.

Adjusting to a less demanding tone, he added, "And some of the latest books released would be appreciated."

The captain stared at Vegeta like he'd just asked for his first-born son. "Books?"

"Yes," Vegeta said. "I'm partial to Fekahran literature. Does Dentsal have anything new?"

"Dentsal. You mean Goldrom Dentsal? You read _Sign of Fire_?" The captain started to lower his gun.

"Travelling can be dull," Vegeta said by way of explanation.

"I suppose it can." A grin crept onto the captain's face. "He has a new book out. If you liked his first book you will enjoy this one too."

"I assume my credits are no longer valid here?" Vegeta asked, feeling ill at the thought. With the Cold empire in tatters, Vegeta had likely lost his life savings, which hadn't been insignificant.

"No. Cold Credits are no longer accepted." The captain's eyes widened. "But let me sort something out. I'll get you what you need. You helped free this planet after all. Wait here, wait here. I won't be long."

The captain scurried off, leaving the rest of the guards behind. Vegeta crossed his arms and leaned against the side of his ship, eyeing the guard closest to him. The guard raised his gun nervously.

Vegeta attempted to relax his expression. "Is there any news from other planets on remaining pockets of Frieza's soldiers?"

"Well, uh... you..." the guard swallowed hard. "You destroyed most of them. A few remain however."

At Vegeta's questioning, he detailed where the remaining forces were located and how strong their footholds were. Vegeta frowned at the news. He'd thought he had removed most of the remaining forces, but more pockets thrived than he'd thought.

The captain returned with his supplies, almost bouncing on his toes in his eagerness to give them to Vegeta. Maybe it was an eagerness to get rid of him. The other soldiers still looked like they thought he was going to kill them and start eating the flesh from their bones.

"Here," The captain said, handing Vegeta a book made of a papery material similar to books on Earth. "You can read Fekahran?"

Vegeta nodded and took the book, reading the plot description. He'd only asked for it knowing that most Fekahrans were proud of their literary accomplishments, but it would be interesting enough to kill his boredom for a few hours. He looked back up at the Captain. "I may stop by again. Who do I ask for?"

The Captain's grin grew wider. "Captain Halkfder"

Vegeta gave him a sharp nod. "Until then, Captain."

* * *

Bulma stomped into her office wearing the most mismatched outfit of her life - a pink summer dress, furry winter boots, orange leggings, and a loose grey sweater she'd stolen out of Vegeta's cupboard.

It was all his fault. That lousy Saiyan was the reason none of her clothes fit. She was half inclined to leave him a message telling him so, but even though she'd left him a dozen messages so far she hadn't had any indication that he'd received them, and even if he was a world-class jerk for leaving her, she didn't really want him seeing her at her worse.

Instead, she started her morning the same way she had since he left. Before getting into complex algorithms or experimentation, she spent an hour translating the book he'd left her. So far it seemed to be a book on Saiyan culture. She hadn't translated much - she'd spent most of her time working out sentence structure and the translations for common words so she could make sense of a full page. She thought she had enough to make a start of the first few pages now.

After spending longer than her allocated hour on it, Bulma had the first fully translated page in front of her.

"Food is an integral part of Saiyan culture," Bulma read aloud. She snorted to herself. Like she needed a book to tell her that. As she read on she discovered that the page mostly detailed types of Saiyan food, but it wasn't particularly interesting to her. When she read a paragraph on Saiyans and sharing food, she stopped to reread and check her translation.

 _Food is used in most ceremonies, from birth to death, and particularly in preparation for battle. Saiyan etiquette dictates that food must never be shared from the plate with one of unequal rank, and where possible, Saiyans of differing rank eat separately. For a Saiyan to share food they have prepared with a non-Saiyan is rare, and usually a sign of high respect for that individual._

Bulma frowned, remembering all the meals her and Vegeta had shared - meals he had cooked for her. She placed a hand on her growing belly. "Well, baby. Your papa might not be here, but at least he _respects_ me. How romantic."

She continued reading, frowning as the words became less clinical and the author's opinion started to show through.

 _A Saiyan's relationship with food seems to be instinctive rather than learned. Subject S-164 is too young to have traditions embedded into his behaviour, yet displays a propensity to eat alone, and exhibits violent behaviour when his food is under threat, even if he has more food than he could eat by himself._

 _Rank appears to be determined instinctively as well, with titled rank meaning little to the subject, who refuses to share his food with most other subjects. Physical strength was suspected to be a Saiyan's way of determining rank, however while Subject S-164 appears to consider strength, it is not the only factor. There appears to be an element of respect that determines the subject's willingness to share, regardless of physical prowess._

Bulma stopped reading, feeling nauseous. This wasn't a textbook on Saiyan culture as she had first thought. This was a scientist's observational notes... And it appeared that a young male Saiyan was the subject of these experiments.

* * *

The blood in his veins pounded in time with his heart, the sound roaring in his head. _Kill, kill, kill._ A siren's call or a mantra, Vegeta wasn't sure, but as he stepped, kicked, and punched his way through over a hundred of Frieza loyalists, he did so in time with the beat.

He was stronger than all of them combined. To make it more of a challenge, he refrained from using ki, enjoying the adrenaline that came from dodging their ki attacks and fighting back with his bare hands.

There was something glorious about wrapping one hand around an enemy's neck while kicking out at another to send them flying into what was once a cliff and now rubble, thanks to the battle ensuing.

Sweat tricked down his forehead and into his eyes - both from exertion and this planet's warm climate, but he blinked it away, focused solely on his goal. _Kill, kill, kill._ A hulking soldier, twice as large as Vegeta, flung himself at the Prince, claws extended. Vegeta ducked, then spun to kick him in the stomach, receiving three deep gashes down his leg for the effort. Vegeta grunted at the sting, but ignored it to concentrate on the next wave. He estimated that he'd put at least half out of commission permanently - either by slaughtering them outright or causing them an injury that they wouldn't recover from. The soldiers kept coming, but he'd noticed a few fleeing. For those, he broke his rule of no ki and sent a blast in their direction. No survivors. No mercy. _Kill, kill, kill_.

A roar from the other side of the cliff rose. Vegeta glanced in that direction to see a few hundred men and women charging towards him. No, not him. Them. The planet's inhabitants, seeing that Vegeta was winning this fight, had obviously decided it was safe enough to assist and reclaim their planet.

Vegeta bared his teeth at the approaching hoard. This was the third base of Frieza loyalists he'd stopped at since Fekahra. It would be his last before entering the Therakard Quadrant. The other two stops had been the same - he decimated Frieza's forces, then local inhabitants joined in at the last moment and did nothing but get in the way.

He went for an uppercut at yet another soldier, connecting with his jaw with a sickening crack. Vegeta grinned, recognising the man as one he'd once fought beside. There were probably more, but registering them was difficult in the frenzy.

Blood spatter coated Vegeta like a second skin. Some of it was his, most of it not. His white gloves were now stained red and he could feel the slippery liquid soaking through onto his hands. Still, Vegeta kept going, watching the light go out of soldiers' eyes just as they - and he - had done so many times before to the populations of different planets.

"It's over," said a voice beside him.

Vegeta spun and picked up the voice's owner by the front of his shirt. The woman wasn't wearing armour. Wasn't a Frieza loyalist. Vegeta knew this, yet the liquid fire in his veins kept beating. _Kill, kill, kill._ His grip tightened and he snarled at the woman, whose pink skin had darkened and eyes widened with fear.

"I'm n...not one of them," she stammered, clawing at his arms. "P...please. We've - you've - killed them all."

Vegeta froze, attempting to slow the adrenaline pumping through him. Slowly he unclenched his fists, dropping the woman to the ground in the process. He turned to survey the battlefield. It was indeed over. No Frieza loyalists remained standing, although he hadn't quite killed them all. A number were simply unconscious.

Vegeta started walking through the battleground, stepping over bodies and patches of slick puddles. When he found a soldier alive, he used a ki blast to put them out of their misery.

"You don't need to do that!" The woman ran over to him and placed a hand on his arm.

Vegeta shook her off then turned to look at her, sending a ki blast to kill another soldier at the same time. The woman flinched, and Vegeta laughed. "You wish to show them mercy?"

The woman glared at Vegeta. "Is that so wrong? You were once no better than these soldiers and no one is attempting to kill you."

"That is because they cannot," Vegeta replied. "There is no one strong enough." He paused in his final killing spree to stare at the woman. She stood straight, meeting his gaze with fierceness. He hadn't seen her on the battlefield - he barely noticed anything that didn't pose a threat - but he could imagine that although she wouldn't admit it, she had enjoyed slaying the soldiers as much as he had. "I showed them mercy by letting the remaining loyalists live after Frieza fell. I told them, if they lived in peace I would ignore them. I _told_ them if they let Frieza's reign live on I would destroy every single one of them."

The woman blinked, then slowly nodded.

Vegeta turned back to the mass of bodies before them and continued his work.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

Bulma shifted uncomfortably in her hospital bed. Her contractions were far apart so the doctor had sent her parents home and ordered Bulma to get some rest. As if sleep was possible.

She hissed as a contraction hit, tightening across her swollen belly. When it subsided, she picked up her latest notes from the book Vegeta had given her. Translating it had been a slow process as whatever the original language was, it had complex sentence structure that didn't match up with any of Earth's languages. She'd managed to get a quite a bit of it translated recently, but hadn't had the time to study the meaning of it all.

 _Subject-164 shows impressive skill in combat, yet displays distaste for killing unless in self-defence. The subject is young, and his attitude may improve with age but orders are to speed up this Saiyan's abilities to increase his value. With so few Saiyan's left, such alterations are not ideal if the race is to be preserved, but genetic changes will be necessary in this case._

Genetic changes? Bulma swallowed hard and placed a hand on her stomach. They hadn't mentioned Vegeta by name, but she had to assume the notes were about him. Why else would he have given them to her? And what exactly had they done to him?

* * *

Getting the ship through the many asteroid fields to land on a planet proved to be tricky. Vegeta switched to manual mode to guide the ship through. He clutched the guiding stick, sweating even more than he did in combat. This ship was much larger than the pods he was used to, and harder to manoeuvre.

He started to enter the atmosphere of one of the uninhabited planets in the quadrant. He gritted his teeth as he struggled to control the ship's descent. The meteoroids were too large to burn up in the atmosphere and he could no longer see anything but an orange glow around him.

"Shit!" Vegeta swore as he attempted to dodge flying debris. There was a hollow clang and then a screech before a whirring sound began. Vegeta groaned even though he'd known the ship wouldn't make it unscathed. Thankfully he'd got an emergency repair kit on Fekahra. Even so, he could only hope that the loud knocks were mere dings to the ship's surface, and not hull breeches.

He tried to even out the ship's altitude as he neared the surface, preferring to come in at an angle. The sheer cliffs proved perilous and he adjusted the angle several times before landing inelegantly, sending rocks flying before settling into a cloud of dust.

Vegeta let out a shaky breath. He was still alive. For now.

He did a quick systems check and found a minor breech on the port side of the ship. Vegeta put his head in his hands, cursing himself inwardly. Why the fuck did he decide to come to the most dangerous place in the known galaxy for a mission that was much more likely to fail than succeed? In everything else Vegeta had remained strategic, but this... this was a fool's errand and he knew it.

He lifted his head back and leaned against the headrest of his chair. "Focus," he told himself. He knew why he was here. He had one goal. Ascend to the legendary Super Saiyan. Of course, he would also like to stay alive and get off this pile of rocks, but that was priority two. It was ascend or die at this point. It made Vegeta uncomfortable, knowing that this time death was a real possibility, and there would be no being wished back, but if this was the last thing he did in his life, so be it.

Vegeta checked the oxygen levels of this planet. Five percent. Low, but for a Saiyan, manageable for a short period. Gravity was fifty times Earth's. Well, he did say he wanted a challenge...

Vegeta changed into his armour, then ventured out into the desolate terrain to meet his fate.

* * *

 _Tests on Subject-164 are promising to date. Studies have shown him killing without hesitation in 87% of situations. Side effects have been noted. They include frequent headaches, post-kill_ _melancholy,_ _and an excess of adrenaline causing shaking. Side effects seem to worsen when the length of time between kills is longer._

Bulma threw the notes to the side with a groan as another contraction hit. She knew childbirth would be painful but she wasn't even in the worst part yet and it already felt as if her stomach was going to erupt. Maybe the baby would burst out of her like that alien in that movie.

As the contraction went away, she picked up the notes and reread the last paragraph. She frowned, thinking back to how Vegeta was complaining of headaches before she got sick.

* * *

Meteoroids plummeted through the purple-tinged sky towards him. Many burned up, but the pock-marked ground was indication enough for Vegeta to guess that a high percentage still fell to this planet's rocky ground.

He powered up, revelling in the ki surging through him. It pulsated around him, making the air crackle with metallic energy that he could taste as he breathed. Vegeta flew into the air, up to where the already limited oxygen thinned to the point that his lungs ached with every breath. As meteoroids hurtled towards him, he fired at them, breaking them apart with his blasts.

He grinned, breathing in short, sharp gasps. There was no greater opponent than nature itself. He dropped down a few metres to get oxygenated air, but a wave of dizziness had him drop further than he'd meant to. He held himself steady in mid-air, barely dodging a meteoroid.

"Don't get cocky," he muttered. Underestimating his opponent had been his biggest mistake too many times.

A large meteoroid approached, and Vegeta started to aim, then realised it was further away than he'd thought.

"Fuck." Vegeta choked on the word, suddenly filled with a fear he hadn't felt in a while. That wasn't a meteoroid. It was an asteroid. And much, much bigger than anything else burning through the atmosphere.

It was hard to tell how far away it was. Vegeta sent a ki blast upwards. It dissipated before it reached the asteroid. Vegeta made to send another up, but was hit on the side on by a meteoroid. He spun in the air, colliding with another. Vegeta tumbled downwards, unable to get in enough air to give himself the strength to right himself.

He hit the ground hard. He had the realisation that this mission was the stupidest mistake of his life - and likely his last - before fading into blackness.

* * *

 _Somehow he'd managed to get sent back to that_ _schielfelkala_ _infested shithole. The planet had been purged years ago, but there were usually a few survivors and its new inhabitants were having some trouble with a group of them. Frieza sent soldiers, including Vegeta, to sort it out._

 _Rivers of blood flowed through cracks in the yellow ground by the time Vegeta and the other soldiers were finished. Near the end of the battle, Vegeta stood off to the side, watching the lower ranked soldiers clean up the rest. Sweaty, tired, and splattered with body matter, he folded his arms to hide his impatience._

 _Too busy inwardly cursing everyone and their incompetence, he didn't notice the ground shake until it erupted underneath him, sending him flying backwards. The_ schielfelkala _reared up out of the newly created hole, its sharp teeth gnashing at the air. Vegeta lay on his back, staring up in horror. He couldn't move. He literally couldn't even breathe - it caught it his throat._

 _Then she appeared, out of nowhere._

 _The black and red haired warrior sent a ki blast directly into the mouth of the beast. It choked and spluttered, and she used the time to fire another blast, this time at its underbelly._

 _"What the fuck are you doing?" She yelled in the common tongue Frieza commanded they use, glaring at Vegeta._

 _She was beautiful, bathed in the glow of fire and ki. He recognised her as Jalakal - a bipedal race from planet Jalak. Like Vegeta, she was young - barely into adulthood. He found himself enthralled, almost forgetting about the_ _schielfelkala_ _she was trying to kill._

 _"Get the fuck off your arse and help me!" She fired a ki blast at his feet in annoyance._

 _Vegeta came to his senses and scrambled to his feet. He started blasting the beast as well and together they slayed the creature of his nightmares._

 _When the beast was dead, she threw him a disgusted look, muttering the Jalakal word for imbecile under her breath. At an insult like that, Vegeta would have normally issued a challenge, but she wouldn't have expected him to speak Jalakal, and for once all of that anger he kept bottled inside was gone - or perhaps merely hidden - and in its place was a light feeling that Vegeta didn't recognised._

* * *

 _Subject-164 now kills without hesitation in 99.95% of tests. Objective achieved. However, a noted side effect is that the subject now had a strong need to kill, even when not asked. Symptoms include sweating, dizziness and hallucinations, all of which dissipate temporarily after the subject has killed a sentient being. Side effect ruled as acceptable as time between kills will not be extended for long enough to cause safety issues. Subject transferred to level one purge training._

Those fucking bastards. They'd altered Vegeta's DNA and left him with permanent side effects. Ones that meant he needed to kill to make them go away...

Bulma screamed as a contraction ripped through her. Fuck, was it supposed to be this painful? She pushed the red button to call the nurse, then screamed again as her stomach tightened unbearably. Black spots danced in front of her eyes and Bulma fell back against the pillow, whimpering. As the nurse came in, Bulma let the darkness take over.

* * *

Vegeta awoke to a loud rumble and the ground shaking under him. He sat up, holding his head and wincing with the movement. Doing a quick body check, he noted that in addition to the cut on his forehead currently bleeding between his fingers, he also had two or three cracked ribs, a hairline fracture to his forearm, and a deep gash on his left leg that looked like it had almost reached the bone.

He tilted his head to the sky, and fought back a cry of frustration at the site of the rocky mass ahead, now completely blocking out the sky. Vegeta dragged himself to standing, then took off in the air towards his ship. His ki stuttered a few times on the way, but Vegeta pushed through and kept going. Forget the legendary Super Saiyan. He didn't care anymore. His ship was the only way off this planet and it would be destroyed with the rest of this rock when the asteroid his if he didn't get the fuck out of here.

He made it to the ship and fired it up. The engines started, then died with a whir. Vegeta cursed, remembering the hull breech. Grabbing the repair kit, he ran outside to look at it. The breech wasn't large - a little bigger than his arm span. Vegeta glanced up. The asteroid was already too close to out manoeuvre. Still, he got out the welder and started repairing.

By the time he finished, it was too late to move the ship. The sky was black, the planet's two suns completely blotted out. Vegeta stood on top of his ship and stared at the ball of metal and rock about to crush him.

He fell to his knees. Was this it?

Years of torture and torment, all for nothing. Everything taken away from him as a boy - his crown, his family, his people - and then to suddenly have freedom fall onto his lap only for him to squander it by going on a suicide mission?

He thought of Kalyana, sacrificing herself in the desperate hope that _he_ would save the universe - he who had the deaths of billions on his hands!

He thought of Bulma, who saw something in him that wasn't there. Something that might have existed had he lived a different life, but had died long ago.

Finally, he thought of Kakarot, who had stolen what should have been his. Taken his vengeance, and achieved what Vegeta could not. His hatred for the lower class Saiyan burned in his veins, but even then, Vegeta knew he had merely projected his hate of Frieza onto Kakarot. For where else could that hate go? Without Kakarot it would end up back on himself and all his failures. Failure to protect his people, to protect Kalyana from Frieza, and failure to protect Bulma from himself.

Was this what his life had added up to? For his life to end in yet another failure?

"No." Vegeta clenched his fists, then took a deep breath. He stood up, back straight. "It will not end like this!" He cried at the asteroid. "I am Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans, and I will not die today!"

The world lit on fire as the asteroid approached with its fiery glow.

Vegeta burst into yellow flames too.

* * *

 **A/N: Yay! I feel like cheering for Vegeta. I've put him through a lot… This chapter was fun to write – I hope you all liked it. Thanks once again for all your reviews, it's nice to know my efforts are appreciated!**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

Vegeta stared up at the purple sky. Two golden orbs floated above him. The suns were back. The asteroid was gone.

He sat down slowly, dizziness washing over him. When he felt steadier, he looked around. What the fuck had happened? It was all a blur of heat and yellow ki.

From his position on top of his ship he could see black rocks surrounding the area out to the horizon, but there was a clean circle around the ship that was free of debris. He studied himself, checking for injuries. In addition to the ones he'd had before he was now covered in grazes and his armour was in tatters. He tried to stand back up, but his leg buckled under him. Vegeta attempted to draw on his ki to fly, but nothing happened. Whatever he'd done to destroy the asteroid had drained him completely.

Vegeta slid down the side of the curved outside of the ship, landing in a crumpled head on the ground. Nausea washed over him and he clutched his stomach. He threw up on the dusty ground, noting the blood but choosing to worry about that later. Was this how Kakarot had felt after ascending? He'd felt better after beatings from Frieza.

With a groan, Vegeta half crawled to the ship's door and dragged himself inside. He had to haul himself into the pilot's chair. There was no way he was going to be able to navigate this ship out of the asteroid field, so he set the coordinates for the nearest inhabited planet. He cursed when he realised it was Jalak, but turned the ship to autopilot anyway.

He'd just faced death and survived. Maybe it was time to face his past anyway.

Deciding that the ship's survival was better off in fate's hands than his, Vegeta dragged himself to his bed and fell into a sleep that bordered on unconsciousness.

* * *

 _Vegeta ignored the triumphant cries of the other soldiers and found himself a spot by a fallen log, off to the side. Raditz hollered at him and tried to wave him over, but Vegeta scowled and shook his head. Drinking with Raditz was the last thing he needed. It always ended the same way - with his head in a toilet and a hazy recollection of the previous night. Vegeta might be the better fighter, but Raditz was by far the better drinker. Nappa didn't bother to ask Vegeta to join him. He knew better and had gone to drink the night away on the other side of the meadow the group had made their base for the night._

 _Vegeta settled in to read a book - he'd purchased one on his last mission (ignoring Nappa's grumbles of it being a waste of credits) and hadn't had any time to finish it. A campfire had been lit, warming the area, so he leaned against the bark, getting comfortable. Pick up wouldn't be until the next day and the second squad would be joining them soon, so he had time to kill and people to avoid._

 _Vegeta didn't care much for the celebration. As far as he was concerned, there wasn't anything to celebrate. How was slaughtering a bunch of rebels with minimal ki a success? Vegeta didn't feel remorse - he did what had to be done - but he didn't enjoy it either. There was no challenge to it, and therefore held little interest to him._

 _The girl who'd saved him from the_ schielfelkala _sat closer to the fire with a couple of other Jalakals. Her voice was low, and would have been out of earshot for most, but Vegeta had excellent hearing and could just make out what she was saying._

 _The girl laughed and glanced in his direction. "Oh look, he's reading," she said in Jalakal. "Not only is he an idiot who nearly got eaten, but he's boring too!" Vegeta looked over the top of his book and met her gaze, keeping his expression carefully neutral._

 _No one had ever called him boring before. Monster, murderer, arrogant, selfish... the list could go on. But boring? He should have felt insulted but it was almost a compliment given his job description._

 _She looked away first, but only because the second squad arrived. The cheering and general hubbub increased exponentially. Vegeta scowled and went back to reading, pointedly tuning out whatever that girl was saying._

 _"Vegeta!" Someone cried out from the other side of the campfire. "V, my man! I thought I saw your name on the schedule." A tall, red headed Jalakal flew over and landed in front of Vegeta. Prince Elrik, like Vegeta, had been conscripted into Frieza's service at a young age, but unlike Vegeta still had a planet and people._

 _Vegeta grunted a greeting and continued reading. Elrik sat down next to him, punching Vegeta's arm. "How've you been? Haven't seen you since that mission on Guunya went tits up."_

 _"I thought we agreed to never mention that fucking mission again," Vegeta said with a growl. He glared at Elrik, trying to give the hint that he didn't want company._

 _Elrik took no notice and grinned back at Vegeta. He was always smiling. Vegeta wasn't sure what there was to be so damn happy about all the time. Committing mass genocide had a way of making life seem bleak._

 _"I haven't breathed a word, I swear. Have you met my sister? She was in your squad. Kalyana! Come over here."_

 _Vegeta's stomach dropped as Elrik indicated in his saviour's direction. The girl glared at the interruption, but stood up and walked over slowly, tossing her long black and red locks over her shoulder and placing her hands on her hips._

 _"What?" She snapped._

 _Elrik blinked, looking surprised at her vehemence. Vegeta tried not to shrink back against the log._

 _"Have you met Vegeta? I wanted to introduce you. He's that crazy prince who saved my life a while back."_

 _"This imbecile is the prince you told me about?" Kalyana asked in Jalakal._

 _Vegeta put his book down and threw Elrik a filthy look. "Haven't breathed a word, you said. What stories have you been telling about me, Elrik?" He asked in fluent Jalakal._

 _"None of the specifics mere mentioned!" Elrik placed a hand on his chest and gasped in mock horror._

 _"You speak Jalakal." Kalyana pursed her lips together and studied Vegeta with a sharp gaze._

 _"Are you kidding? He can speak what, fifty languages? It's mad!" Elrik said._

 _"Sixteen," Vegeta corrected. "And I can read ten." He smirked at Kalyana. "Not bad for a boring imbecile."_

 _Kalyana had the decency to look embarrassed, her caramel skin darkening._

 _"When's your next layover, V?" Elrik asked. "Swing by Jalak if I'm there. We can party like we did on Guunya."_

 _"Don't call me that!" Vegeta rolled his eyes at Elrik's innocent smile. "Jalak is a fucking nightmare to get to with that asteroid field in the way. And I'm not the partying type."_

 _"You were on Guunya," Elrik said, waggling his eyebrows. "You know I'm way more fun than those Saiyans you hang out with. Kalyana will join us, won't you?"_

 _"If I must," she replied, studying her nails which were either painted red, or covered in someone's blood splatter - Vegeta hadn't worked out which._

 _"See!" Elrik said. "It will be fun."_

 _"Fun," Vegeta repeated dubiously. He looked at Kalyana who met his gaze without blinking. "Maybe."_

* * *

Two men, their skin grey and hard, as if they were made from rock, leaned over Vegeta. He vaguely recalled hearing the ship's warning alarms telling him it was landing, but he'd been unable to get out of bed.

He looked sleepily up at the men, wondering if he'd landed on the wrong planet until he saw their armour. Frieza loyalists. He hadn't expected them to have made Jalak a stronghold, given its remote location.

"Prince Vegeta," one of them said in a voice that came out as a hiss. "You've been causing a lot of trouble for us."

Vegeta blinked at them sluggishly, not bothering to snap back with a clever come back. His head hurt too much.

They hauled Vegeta out of his bed and dragged him out of the ship. He could have put up a fight, but he knew that in his current condition that weakling Yamcha probably could have finished him off. Better to wait and assess the situation.

They took him straight from the ship into the back of a large vehicle with no windows. Vegeta dozed off in his chair, awaking abruptly when one of the men slammed their fist into his stomach.

He was dragged from the vehicle – not because he was putting up a fight, but because he couldn't walk on his injured leg. Vegeta's eyes widened when he saw the building before him. The Jalakal palace. It had been years since he'd been here.

The rock men gave up dragging him and one of them threw Vegeta over their shoulder. He started to protest, but the pounding in his skull wouldn't let up enough to let him form words. He was dumped unceremoniously onto a cold, stone floor. Manacles clapped around his wrists, and too late, Vegeta realised they were ki-suppressing.

They left him then, slamming the barred metal door behind him. His ragged breathing echoed with the constant dripping of water somewhere in the corner of his cell. Vegeta curled into a ball on the floor reassessing his situation. His leg was still busted, but his ribs were feeling better. He tried to flair his ki, to no avail. This could prove to be an interesting challenge.

"V…?" A voice rang out from a dark corner of the cell. "Is that you?"

Vegeta opened his eyes and peered into the dark. "Who's asking?" he said before breaking into a cough. He grimaced as he tasted blood in his mouth. His internal injuries were clearly still healing.

The sound of metal scraping on the floor echoed through the cell. A man crept forward, eyes locked on Vegeta. "It is you! V, you look like shit."

"I've felt better," Vegeta admitted. He managed to get himself to a sitting position, then studied the Prince of Jalak. He'd aged, with his hair a slightly faded red now. If the lines on his face, and the lack of his trademark smile were any indication, the years hadn't been kind to Elrik.

"I haven't seen you since…" Elrik broke off with a shrug. "I heard you killed Frieza. Kalyana would have been proud."

"I didn't," Vegeta said. "I tried, but…" He closed his eyed briefly before forcing himself to meet Elrik's gaze. "Another Saiyan had the honour and I took out most Frieza's forces afterwards. I didn't come this far though - I didn't think they'd come here and I… I didn't think you'd want to see me."

"I didn't," Elrik said. "I saw the footage." He let out a bitter laugh. "Frieza took great pleasure in forcing me to watch my best friend kill my sister. And then seeing you afterwards... it reminded me of what happened. But I shouldn't have said what I did to you. I don't blame you. I never did." He crept forward more until he sat next to Vegeta. He placed a hand on his shoulder. "Vegeta. You had no choice."

"There's always a choice,' Vegeta replied dully.

"That's _schielfelkala_ -shit and you know it." Elrik pulled back his hand and gave Vegeta the ghost of his old smile. "Our choices were taken away from us as children, my friend. You and I were born with worlds at our feet, and ended up with nothing. When Frieza died, I thought I could get it back, but I… I wasn't strong enough."

"What happened here?" Vegeta asked.

"After you started terrorising anyone who remained loyal or stupid enough to think he was coming back, several soldiers came here. I turned them away of course, but they came back with more and more troops, and I couldn't…" He broke off and cocked his head, studying Vegeta intently. "I don't know what you did in a few years to make you strong enough to take on all of Frieza's force, but I could do with some tips. But who managed to fuck up Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans? You look like you've taken a beating, but if rumours are to be believed you are stronger that Frieza."

"It was an asteroid," Vegeta said with a laugh. "I came out on top eventually."

"Still using your usual method of training yourself to the brink of death, I see," Elrik said, shaking his head.

Vegeta shrugged in response. "Something like that. Do you have any food?"

Elrik stood up and fetched a stale piece of bread. Vegeta swallowed it without chewing, knowing that a lack of sustenance was slowing down his body's healing ability. "I'm going to sleep," he said with his mouth still half full. "Wake me up if anyone comes down and unlocks the cell."

"What are you going to do?" Elrik asked, waving his manacled wrists. "Ki suppressing if you hadn't noticed."

"You think that will stop me? I'm going to get us the fuck out of here," Vegeta said, yawning as he lay back down on the cold ground. "After I've slept. And then _we_ are going to get your planet back."

* * *

 **A/N: Another chapter done... It's quite fun writing something that is completely made up instead of relying on DBZ plot points, although it takes me a little longer. I hope you like it!**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

 _His boots clicked on the tiled floor as he approached Frieza. At exactly four point three metres away (having previously calculated the correlation between distance and the least likelihood to antagonise) Vegeta halted and stood to attention to waited for the purple lizard to turn around and address him._

 _Frieza turned slowly, his hover-seat whirring with the movement. He smiled at the prince - a cruel smirk that didn't meet his eyes. Vegeta cursed inwardly, but refused to let himself flinch. What distance he stood from Frieza wasn't going to make a difference. He carefully avoided making eye contact with Frieza, picking a spot just over his shoulder instead._

 _"How are you, my pet?" Frieza asked, moving his hover chair closer._

 _"I am fine, Lord Frieza," Vegeta said, pleased at how steady his voice was. "How may I be of service?"_

 _"You have some time before your next mission."_

 _Frieza didn't phrase it like a question, so Vegeta replied hesitantly. "Yes, Lord Frieza."_

 _"What were you planning on doing with your time?" Frieza asked._

 _Vegeta blinked in surprise at the question and found himself making the mistake of meeting Frieza's cold gaze. He considered lying and saying nowhere, but Frieza didn't like asking questions he didn't already know the answer to. "I was planning on stopping at Jalak. It's not far from where I will be stationed next."_

 _"Is it so bad on base?" Frieza asked, stepping out of his chair until he stood less than an arm's length from Vegeta. "Don't you have everything you need?"_

 _"No. Yes. I uh…" Vegeta fought the urge to take a step backwards._

 _"Which is it, my monkey prince?" Frieza asked. "No or yes?"_

 _"I… to which question, Lord Frieza?" Vegeta asked, bracing himself for what would come next. When Frieza was in this mood, no answer was the right one._

 _The resounding slap echoed through the cavernous space, and sent Vegeta flying sideways before he toppled to the ground. His head felt like it had been rammed with a space pod, but Vegeta kept his clenched hands down, to avoid holding his jaw. The taste of blood filled his mouth._

 _Frieza strolled over, his hands behind his back as he walked. When he stopped in front of Vegeta, the prince spat out the blood in his mouth on the floor next to his torturer. Better to make Frieza angry enough to knock him out than antagonise him slowly, which usually resulted in drawn out torture._

 _"Feeling rebellious today, monkey?" Frieza asked, kicking Vegeta in the stomach._

 _Vegeta glared up at him, not bothering to hide his hatred. "Of course not," he said sarcastically. "What is there to rebel against? Your rule is so just and fair."_

 _Frieza grinned at Vegeta and cracked his fingers. "This is going to be fun, little prince."_

* * *

 _Vegeta was vaguely aware of Nappa carrying him. The large Saiyan was usually the one called on when Vegeta was too injured to stand. An unfortunately frequent occurrence according to Nappa, but despite the indignity of being carried around like a sack of food, Vegeta preferred to focus on the idea that as long as Frieza's beatings didn't kill him, they would make him stronger._

 _It was the only silver lining he had._

 _"What happened to him?" Someone asked. Their voice was familiar… not Raditz._

 _"Frieza," was Nappa's sharp reply. "Won't grant him access to the med tank on base either."_

 _"What? Look at him! He won't survive without one," the voice said._

 _Elrik, Vegeta realised. They were meant to travel to Jalak together later that day._

 _"That's a possibility," Nappa agreed._

 _"Get him on my ship," Elrik said. "I'll get him into a med tank on Jalak."_

 _"Frieza won't like it."_

 _"By the time we get back from our next mission, Frieza will have forgotten."_

 _Nappa shrugged, tossing Vegeta up and down in the process. "Your funeral."_

* * *

 _Vegeta could hear noises, but they were distant… or muffled. It sounded like he was underwater. He opened his eyes to see blurry shadows in front of him. He could breathe, and he felt the pressure of a mask on his face, and the sting of needles in his arm. He was in a med tank._

 _He strained to tune into the sounds on the other side of the glass. There were voices - a male and a female. As the drugs that had been keeping him sedated started to wear off, he managed to make out what they were saying._

 _"What happened to him?" The female asked. "Did he get hurt on a mission and was too much of a wimp to heal the old-fashioned way?"_

 _"Frieza happened," the other voice said. From the tenor Vegeta assumed it was Elrik. Vegeta tried to bang on the glass with his fist, but he could barely work up the energy to make a thud._

 _"Frieza?" The female voice rose and octave. "Lord Frieza loves Vegeta. Everyone knows he gets special treatment. That did the high and mighty Prince of Saiyans do to fuck him off?"_

 _Vegeta's breathing sped up as he remembered what had happened. He had to get out of the tank._

 _"You shouldn't believe everything you hear," Elrik replied. "Frieza thinks violence is how you show someone you care. Trust me, being favoured by Frieza is not something anyone should want."_

 _Vegeta started flaring his ki and the water around him glowed blue._

 _"Shit, he's awake." Elrik banged on the glass with his fit. "You're not healed, V! Can't you stay in there a little longer?"_

 _Vegeta increased his ki slightly in answer._

 _"Don't break the med tank. We only have one. I'll let you out."_

 _Water started draining out and Vegeta lowered his ki. The glass door opened and Vegeta pulled off the mask and ripped out the needles. He tried to step out, but fell to the floor instead._

 _"Fuck, man you are crazy." Elrik helped Vegeta to his feet. "You need way longer in there. I should have given you more sedatives."_

 _Vegeta tried to stand on his own, but Elrik was right - he hadn't fully healed. "I couldn't stay in there," he said, coughing up some of the med tank liquid that had made its way into his lungs._

 _"You claustrophobic?" Someone asked from across the room._

 _Vegeta lifted his head wearily to see Kalyana staring at him intently. Fuck, why did she have to be in here? "No. But Frieza said no med tank. If I get out now, he might think it was my body healing naturally. If I heal completely, he'll know I used one and that won't be good for any of us."_

 _Kalyana started at his words. "You're going to stay injured on the off chance that Elrik will be hurt for helping you?"_

 _"It's not an off chance. It's reality." Vegeta sat down in a stretcher bed with Elrik's help._

 _"That's insane!" Kalyana glared at Vegeta as if he was the one who would hurt Elrik. "Frieza can't do that."_

 _Elrik laughed at her words. "Of course he can. Stay with V, sis. I'll go get the doctor."_

 _"Has this happened before?" Kalyana asked when Elrik left the room._

 _Vegeta furrowed his brow. "Has what happened before?"_

 _"This." Kalyana stood in front of him and gestured up and down. "Frieza hurting you."_

 _"You're joking, right?" Vegeta cocked his head and studied her. Kalyana had a few obvious battle scars - no soldier of Frieza didn't - but her scars were nowhere near as extensive as Vegeta's. "I know you don't see much of Frieza, but he's a sadistic fucker. This is nothing."_

 _"Nothing?" Kalyana stepped forward and reached out to touch the bruise on Vegeta's jaw._

 _Vegeta flinched and batted her hand away. "The last thing I need is your pity. Frieza won't kill me. I've survived this long, and I'll keep on surviving."_

 _"How do you know won't he kill you?" Kalyana asked._

 _"Frieza wants to break people." Vegeta stared at a spot on the wall to avoid her gaze. "I haven't broken."_

 _"So he'll keep you alive for the challenge?" Kalyana put her hand to her mouth. "That's sick." She moved her hand back towards Vegeta. When he tried to push her away, she used her other hand to cover his. "I do not pity you, Vegeta, Prince of Saiyans. I… fear I may have misjudged you though."_

 _Her hand cupped his jaw gently and Vegeta wanted to pull back, but found himself sucked into her gaze. What colour were her eyes? He'd thought they were brown, but this close specks of gold and red could be seen._

 _Elrik cleared his throat and Kalyana jumped and pulled back. Vegeta didn't move, frozen where he was._

 _"Doctor's here," Elrik said with a knowing smirk._

* * *

 **A/N: Just the flashback for this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

 _Vegeta knew he was dreaming. He kept shifting from memory to dream, until he found himself standing in the kitchen of Capsule Corp, the smell of freshly cooked noodles, frying in soy sauce invading his nose. Suddenly he wasn't so sure if he was still asleep._

 _Bulma stood in front of him, dressed in a short nighty with pink bunny slippers on her feet. Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she looked at him. "Come home." She reached out to touch his face with her pale hand._

 _"I am," Vegeta breathed, although he hadn't ever called anywhere home in his life._

 _"No, you're not." A lone tear trickled down her cheek. "Come back to me. I need you."_

 _Her warm skin felt velvety smooth against his, and Vegeta desperately wanted to lean into it. Instead, he reached up and pulled her hand away from his face. "You don't need me." He wanted to let go, but his hand felt glued to hers. "Kakarot will stop the androids."_

 _Bulma's blue eyes widened and she shook her head. "I'm not worried about the androids. I don't need you to defeat them - I just need you here, with me. Come home."_

 _"No one needs me." Vegeta lifted his other hand to touch her hair. "All I do is destroy."_

 _Bulma's eyes darkened then, changing from blue to gold with flecks of red. "You're right."_

 _Vegeta started at the venom in her voice. He tried to pull away, but her grip on his hand tightened with incredible strength._

 _"Bulma will never be safe with you." She said._

 _Vegeta closed his eyes, and when he opened them he knew it was no longer Bulma staring back at him._

 _"You'll kill her." Kalyana leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Like you killed me."_

 _Vegeta tried to tug his hand away again, but found he couldn't move a muscle._

 _"You can't save her from yourself, my prince. Now, wake up!"_

"Vegeta! Wake up!"

"No," Vegeta mumbled. He groaned as someone shook his shoulder.

"V! Seriously man, get up. Someone is coming down here."

Vegeta opened his eyes, which adjusted to the darkness slowly, half expecting to see Kalyana. He blinked, and in her place was the much less appealing figure of Elrik peering down at him and shaking his shoulder.

Vegeta sat up, relieved that his injuries felt mildly less severe. He peered through the barred door, spotting a pair of grey legs descending the narrow staircase that led to the dungeon.

"I don't suppose you came up with a plan in your sleep?" Elrik asked in a low whisper.

"Maybe." Vegeta got gingerly to his feet and motioned for Elrik to do the same. "You're not going to like it, so apologies in advance."

"Apologies for wha-" Elrik broke off with a cry as Vegeta slammed a fist into Elrik's face.

"I told you I'd kill you, you fucking bastard," Vegeta yelled, grabbing Elrik by his throat and slamming him against the bars on the door.

"Stop!" A frantic voice said in Jalakal, but with a terrible accent. "Put the prince down!"

Vegeta glared at the rock man, still unable to remember what planet rock men were from, or what their people were actually called. He looked like one of the men that had brought him into the cell, but Vegeta honestly couldn't be sure. Rock men all looked… well, rocky to him.

"Don't interrupt," he hissed at rock man. "I've been wanting to kill this man for years now and you've kindly provided me the opportunity."

The scaly skin above rock man's eyes lifted in a curiously odd expression of concern. He stepped forward to the door. "That prisoner must remain alive."

Vegeta responded by shoving his free hand through the bars it the door, grabbing the front of rock man's armour, and yanking him hard so his head hit the door. It didn't do much more to the man than make a resounding clang echo through the cell, but it gave Vegeta the chance to let go of Elrik and snatch the keys from rock man's belt.

Elrik dropped to his knees, gasping for breath and holding his throat. "Did you have to be so method in your acting?" He stood up gingerly and patted his face. "I think you broke my nose."

Rock man recovered and flared his ki, moving to fire. Vegeta had his cuffs undone though, and blasted hole in the door, creating one through rock man's chest at the same time. He tossed Elrik the keys with a smirk. "Selling it is key."

Elrik caught the keys and started undoing his cuffs. "But why the nose! You know my face is my best asset." He undid his cuffs and rubbed his wrists. "You've got your hair and winning personality, but I rely on my good-looking mug to pull the ladies."

Vegeta snorted at that, and opened his mouth to reply, but then let out a hiss instead and grabbed one of Elrik's hands and studied the wrist. "How long have you been down here?" The skin where the cuffs had been was raw and scabbed over in places. This wasn't weeks' worth of wear. In Earth terms, it was months… maybe longer.

"I lost count," Elrik said, tugging his hand back. "How did you know he wouldn't let you kill me?"

Vegeta started moving towards his newly made exit, motioning for Elrik to follow. "A hunch."

"You nearly killed me on a hunch?"

They started creeping up the stairs. Vegeta limped slightly with each step, but grit his teeth through the pain. He could sense several ki signatures above, so Vegeta kept his voice low. "I know they must be keeping you alive for a reason. Threatening your father to keep his people in order I assume."

"My mother, actually," Elrik said. "Father's dead."

Vegeta paused on the stairs and turned to look at Elrik. The older prince's expression didn't waver.

"My condolences," Vegeta said.

"Why?" Elrik asked. "You hated my father."

Vegeta shrugged his agreement. "You didn't."

"Most of the time," Elrik muttered.

They made it to the top of the staircase and Vegeta noted where the ki signatures were coming from. There were a large number scattered around the palace, but only three in the room that the staircase led to.

Vegeta contemplated attempting to ascend, but he wasn't certain he could control it, and even in his weakened state none of the ki signatures felt strong enough to require it.

"What's the plan?" Elrik asked. "You do have one, right?"

"I always have a plan," Vegeta said.

Elrik grimaced. "True. Let me rephrase. Do you have a plan I'll actually like this time?"

Vegeta bared his teeth at Elrik in a ferocious grin. "Depends if the mighty Prince of Jalak minds getting his hands dirty. There are three soldiers through the door. You take the one on the right, I'll take the two on the left."

"How do you know how many there are?"

Vegeta ignored Elrik's question and kicked in the door. He ducked to avoid a ki blast the retaliated in kind, killing one of the rock me on the left instantly. The other tackled Vegeta, slamming his injured leg into the ground. Vegeta winced, but swung his fist into the solder's throat. It did little more than knock this rock man back slightly, but it gave Vegeta the time to fire a beam of ki through the solder' chest.

The soldier Vegeta had asked Elrik to take care of lay unmoving at Elrik's feet. Unconscious, but not dead - Vegeta could sense a low level of ki.

"Finish him off," Vegeta said.

Elrik's usually dark skin had paled. He lifted his hand to do the job, but hesitated.

With a scowl, Vegeta blasted the soldier himself. "Your planet is at war, and your people are suffering for it." He raised his voice when the prince didn't respond. "Elrik!"

The Jalakal prince flinched.

"Get it together. No hesitation. No mercy," Vegeta said, reminding him something Elrik used to say on purges.

Elrik lowered his hand, his eyes deep pools of pity that made Vegeta recoil. "That is their philosophy. I know it was ours once, but what is the point in fighting back if what we are fighting for isn't any better than them?"

"Fuck, not you too." Vegeta shook his head. "I was surrounded by enough do-gooders on Earth. This is your planet we are talking about. If you want it back, you need to be willing to do whatever it takes."

Three soldiers stormed into the room at that moment. Vegeta, having already detected their approach, killed them before Elrik could even move.

Vegeta turned to his old friend. "We'll do this my way until we get out of here. Then, if you want my help, it is yours. If not, I shall happily leave Jalak."

Elrik let out a deep sigh. "Can we attempt to keep the palace intact?"

"No promises." Vegeta grinned at Elrik, knowing he'd won this one. "I promise, I won't go near the throne room."

Elrik shut his eyes briefly, before nodding. "Alright, V. Get us out of here."

Vegeta hadn't appreciated how handy being able to detect ki without a scouter was until he had to avoid over a hundred soldiers swarming the palace. He'd become used to the one on one battle style he'd had since landing on Earth, but _this_ \- fighting off a horde of soldiers bent on killing him, sticking with his bare hands to minimise damage to the building - like on the other planets he'd freed since leaving Earth, it gave him a rush like no other.

Even Elrik seemed to have overcome his squeamishness, cutting down soldiers in his path with the same brutality he had shown in his purges with Vegeta.

They left the palace, covered in blood that wasn't theirs, and filled with more adrenaline than they could burn. Once outside, they took to the sky, Elrik leading the way.

"You need to teach me how you knew where everyone was before seeing them," Elrik said as they flew over a dilapidated city that Vegeta remembered as being the pinnacle of modern engineering years ago.

"You want me to stay then?" Vegeta asked.

"You have your uses, I suppose." Elrik smiled then, a wide grin that brought more relief to Vegeta than slaking his bloodlust ever could. "Not like you have anywhere better to be, right?"

His words conjured an image of Bulma in Vegeta's head, but he ignored both Elrik's rhetorical question, and the thought of the woman.

They touched down in an abandoned town. Most of the buildings were crumbling, with robes missing, and walls with giant holes in them. Vegeta could see remnants of the cobblestone paving, and guessed that once it had been a quaint little village.

"What are we doing here?" Vegeta asked. "I can't sense anyone."

"That's good to know." Elrik took aim at a building and used his ki to blow it to complete rubble. "That should get their attention."

"Who's attention?" Vegeta asked, but then took refuge behind a wall as a rogue ki blast flew towards him. Suddenly he could sense the ki of twelve. A ki blast shot towards Elrik, and Vegeta jumped in front of him and deflected the blast towards a cluster of ki signatures.

"Don't hurt them!" Elrik yelled. "They are Jalakal. They don't know who we are."

"This was your plan? Piss off your people so they attack you?" Vegeta deflected another blast, this time sending it into an unpopulated area. "Next time, let me stick with the plan making alright?"

"Because yours are so much more thought out?" Elrik retorted, somersaulting out of the way of an attack. "Kill everyone in your path and get lost looking for the exit?"

"You should have known we were going the wrong way. It's your palace." Vegeta deflected another blast. "Fuck this. I'm too tired and too hungry." He rose into the air, dodging beams of ki, then looked down at the town. "Cut it out, you imbeciles!" He shouted in Jalakal. "That's your prince you are attempting to murder."

"You're no prince of ours, Saiyan!" Someone yelled back, sending a blast with it.

Vegeta rolled his eyes. Clearly his reputation wasn't the best on Jalak as well. "Not me. Elrik!"

"I'm their king, actually," Elrik called up. "Had my coronation before I was captured."

All ki blasts stopped and a few Jalakals crept out from their posts behind walls and buildings.

Vegeta flew back down, landing beside Elrik. "As if your ego wasn't big enough," he muttered.

Elrik snorted. "You're one to talk. Your ego's been bigger than a king's since I met you."

"It's well justified," Vegeta said. "Need I remind you that it was I who got you out of that cell?"

"Elrik?" An older woman came forward. A shaking hand covered her mouth. "Is that really you?"

"Mother." Elrik attempted to brush the dirt off his shirt, much to Vegeta's amusement. It didn't help.

"You're alive. They told us you were but…" The woman threw her arms around Elrik, who stiffened in obvious discomfort.

Vegeta smirked, and smothered a laugh as Elrik glared at him.

"I'm fine." Elrik squirmed out of his mother's grasp. "Vegeta showed up and busted us out."

"Vegeta!" Elrik's mother pulled back from her son and fixed a glare on the Saiyan.

"Hurandra." Vegeta said her name carefully. The woman hadn't openly hated Vegeta like Elrik's father had – in fact she'd been fairly supportive of his relationship with Kalyana - but he hadn't seen her since Kalyana died.

Hurandra marched up to Vegeta and punched him hard on his jaw. Not too long ago, Hurandra was a formidable warrior in her own right, and despite Vegeta bracing himself for it, the hit stung his already bruised face.

"That was for my daughter," she said, before spinning on her heals and walking off, waving at Elrik to follow.

"Don't worry about her," Elrik said, tugging on Vegeta's elbow to make him start moving. "She knows you had no choice, and you did save me, so she can hardly attempt to murder you."

"Comforting," Vegeta muttered.

"Metal on," Hurandra commanded.

The the Jalakals started pulling out grey jewellery from their pockets and put them on. Hurandra glanced back at Elrik and Vegeta, then with a scowl, tossed them a ring each.

Vegeta turned it over in his hand before slipping it on his right index finger. He attempted to raise his ki level, then grunted in surprise when he couldn't. That explained why he couldn't sense any of the Jalakals in this abandoned town.

Everyone formed a line and entered one of the more intact buildings, then made their way down a hidden staircase. As the stairs grew windier and the air cooler, Vegeta realised they were heading deep underground. Eventually the stairs levelled off to a wider pathway. Sconces lit the walls, creating odd shadows on the roof as everyone marched by.

When they reached their destination - an open area with more passageways joining off them, each with several adjoining rooms, Hurandra asked to speak with Elrik alone, leaving Vegeta standing in the middle of a group of Jalakals who stared at him with expressions stonier than the rock men.

Vegeta glared back at them, too tired and sore to bother with social niceties. "One of you idiots had better get me some food now, unless you want your underground hideout to have a sun roof, because I just got out of a cell with no windows, and this isn't feeling much better."

After a still moment of complete silence, the Jalakals in the room started scurrying about.

They got him some food, and even sent a Jalakal doctor to look at his injuries. Once fed, Vegeta felt less like killing everyone in the room. "I'm fine," he said to the doctor inspecting the gash on his leg. "It's just a scratch."

"It was a lot more than a scratch," the doctor replied. "That cut went straight to the bone. You are lucky it's not infected." He applied a topical cream that smelt a little like mint, and stung when applied.

Vegeta grit his teeth, but let the doctor finish dressing the wound. As soon as he was done, Vegeta grabbed some more bread and sliced cold meat, then went to find Elrik.

He'd become so used to sensing ki, that every time he came across someone in the passageways unexpectedly, Vegeta nearly jumped. He had no idea where Elrik was, and no one would tell him, so Vegeta simply started walking into rooms in the hopes of stumbling across him.

"You can't be serious!" Hurandra shouted.

Vegeta followed the sound of the voice.

"He can help us," Elrik replied.

"He's just as likely to kill all of us as he is Frieza's loyalists."

"Mother, don't be ridiculous. Vegeta saved my life. He's not going to hurt us."

Vegeta strolled into the room with a smirk. "Aw, Elrik, it's nice to know you have so much faith in me." He handed Elrik the bread and meat he'd picked up. "Eat," he commanded.

Elrik took the food eagerly and started shovelling it into his mouth.

Vegeta glared at Hurandra. "I didn't come here to kill anyone. I was injured and set my ship to come to the closest inhabited planet. I didn't know it was overrun with loyalists, or I would have come sooner. I've been flushing them out all over the galaxy. Let me help you. I've freed several planets from their rule, and you could use my help."

"We don't need _your_ help," Hurandra said.

Vegeta raised his eyebrows. "Your husband is dead, your people hiding in sewers like rats, and your son was held captive for months. Yes, you need my help. Besides. The loyalists have my ship. If you want to get rid of me I need to get it back."

"Let him help, Mother." Elrik said in-between mouthfuls. "He's better at strategy than anyone else I know."

Hurandra let out a deep sigh. "As soon as our people are free, you'll leave?"

"Mother!" Elrik looked up from his food. "He can stay as long as he wants."

"I have somewhere I need to be," Vegeta said. "As soon as your people are free and my ship is ready, I'll leave."

* * *

 **A/N: This update took me a little longer that I'd have liked. B/V chapters are so much easier to write! The next chapter should be up tomorrow. I'm looking forward to getting Bulma and Vegeta in the same room!**


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

The three of them poured over a map of the city that the loyalists had been using as their main stronghold.

"Here," Vegeta said, pointing to a river that flowed next to the city. "The city's main water supply feeds from this river. The ducts are an easy way in."

"Too easy," Hurandra said. "They'll be expecting us that way."

"Which is why we send some that way as a distraction, then send a smaller group… this way." Vegeta pointed to another section of the map. "Can you pull up the security footage of the area?"

Elrik did as asked, and Vegeta studied the area. It contained a fortified wall, but the trees and shrubs around it were overgrown. Vegeta started scribbling some co-ordinates and calculations down on paper. "Chances are, some of the soldiers in this area will be pulled into the fray. For any that remain, a lone Jalakal can enter and if they remain between these two coordinates, he could take out the remaining guards without being caught on camera. Then the smaller team follows this path…" He traced it on the map. "And opens the gate, letting the larger team in."

"Jalakals will die," Elrik said. "We'd be sending people in to be slaughtered until the second group got the gates open."

Vegeta shrugged. "Your people are already dying. Strategically, it's the best move. Unless you want to send me in alone. I can go in, kill everyone, and have the city under control within a few hours."

"No," Hurandra snapped. "We don't need a foreigner going in and saving the day. Our people need to see their leader freeing them."

"If there is a solution that doesn't involve Jalakal lives lost, we should take it," Elrik said.

Hurandra clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Then you will lose your crown."

"I never wanted it anyway!" Elrik cried.

"Your mother is right," Vegeta said, even though the words were physically painful to say. "You may not want the crown, but it is your responsibility. Without a leader, once freed, Jalak will descend into chaos. You need to unite your people and have them rally behind you afterwards to rebuild."

Hurandra looked surprised at his words, but nodded. "It's the only way to ensure long-term peace."

Elrik closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, he looked at Vegeta. "You'll do what you can to minimise casualties."

Vegeta nodded, even though it was a command, not a question. "This time tomorrow, your people will be free."

* * *

Vegeta took point on the larger team providing the distraction so that Elrik and his smaller squad could get into the heavily fortified city and open the gates.

Hurandra wanted to lead one of the groups, but Elrik convinced her not to by pointing out that Vegeta was better placed to protect more people at once. The queen dowager stayed back, relaying comms between the two groups to ensure they kept the element of surprise.

Vegeta concentrated on keeping the Jalakals in his team alive, rather than on killing the loyalists. It was more difficult than he thought to hold himself back from the fight. The blood screamed in his ears and his hands itched to kill. He pushed past it, standing in waist-deep river water to direct Jalakal soldiers to different ducts, and providing cover where he could.

As predicted, the loyalists knew they were coming, and had the advantage of high ground. Vegeta used his ki to blind the loyalist soldiers and to deflect any incoming blasts overhead, but avoided killing too many loyalists himself.

Once Elrik's team had the gates open, Vegeta sent his Jalakal troops over. They swarmed in, taking down the Frieza loyalists in a bloody battle that was almost over before it had really begun.

As the loyalists were either killed or rounded up, Elrik grinned at Vegeta over the fray. "It worked!"

Vegeta smirked. "Of course. My plans always work."

Elrik laughed, and turned to help an injured Jalakal soldier. Out of nowhere, there was a bellow and a flash of ki and Elrik suddenly flew backwards and landed in a heap on the ground, dark red blood pouring from a wound on his side.

Vegeta froze, staring at his unmoving body.

Most of the universe despised Vegeta, but Elrik, who had every reason to hate him, was his friend. His only friend, really.

Vegeta turned slowly to face the loyalist who'd fired the blast. The soldier, with his purple skin and armour stolen from a Saiyan design, reminded Vegeta of Frieza. He still had his arm outstretched from firing the ki blast, and when he caught Vegeta's eye, he smirked at the prince.

With a scream, Vegeta's ki erupted into golden flames around him. He fired a blast at the loyalist, and when it dissipated, the soldier was nothing but ash.

Breathing heavily, and still buzzing with rage, Vegeta turned to see Elrik. When he focussed on Elrik, his shoulder's slumped in relief. He could sense Elrik's ki. The Jalakal was injured, but not mortally wounded.

Vegeta slowed his breathing and stared at his hands, turning them over to watch the yellow ki dance. He had ascended without even thinking. Vegeta increased his ki experimentally. He'd been worried about not being able to control his ascended state but as his raised and lowered his ki, he realised he had more control now that he had a clear head.

Vegeta grinned to himself. Those androids weren't going to know what hit them.

* * *

Vegeta sat in a chair next to Elrik's bed. His friend was pale, but coherent enough for Vegeta to no longer feel concerned about his survival chances.

"You could stay." Elrik rearranged the pillows behind him to prop himself up, then leaned back, clutching his side. "I could use a general for my army and Jalak would have been your home if you and my sister had…"

"I have somewhere I need to be," Vegeta said.

"Something or some _one_?" Elrik asked, quirking his mouth into a smile.

Vegeta shrugged noncommittally. He couldn't have answered the question anyway. He wasn't sure himself. "I don't plan on staying there forever. If I survive, I may return to Jalak."

"So cryptic." Elrik shook his head sadly. "Are you really planning on disappearing into space without telling anyone your plan? How will I know you're okay?"

"My whereabouts hasn't bothered you for a long time."

"I kept an eye on reports," Elrik admitted. "I might not have wanted to see you, but I always regretted what I said, and I worried about you. I still do."

"I'm fine." Vegeta scowled at the prince - no, the king.

"I don't think even you believe that," Elrik said with a sigh. "But I've arranged your ship to be repaired and stocked. Your comms unit was broken, but one of the technicians repaired it. You had a few messages. They hooked the unit up to the screen in the media room if you want to watch them."

Vegeta stiffened in his chair. There could only be one person they were from. Suddenly, it took all his effort to remain where he was and not bolt straight for the media room.

Elrik laughed. "Definitely a _someone_ then. Go watch them. I need to sleep anyway."

Deciding that there was no harm in watching the messages now that he was heading back to Earth, Vegeta did as Elrik suggested, and headed to the media room.

He got lost twice on his way, even though he'd been there before with Kalyana. The endless hallways of the palace were a maze.

"Vegeta."

He stopped where he was at Hurandra's voice. Cursing his luck, he turned around slowly. The queen dowager stood at the end of the hall, looking regal but tired in the ceremonial robes she'd worn to relay their victory to the people. She eyed him carefully, her gaze looking him up and down.

Vegeta tried not to squirm under her watchful eye, especially as she walked towards him, her heels clicking on the wooden floor. She stopped in front of them, neither of them speaking.

Eventually Hurandra let out a deep sigh. "I suppose I must apologise for not trusting you. Your assistance was invaluable."

Vegeta blinked in surprise.

"I am aware that you did what you did under Frieza's command – I know that it was under duress," Hurandra choked out. "I saw the way you looked at her - how you treated her. You never would have hurt my daughter if…"

She trailed off and Vegeta looked at the ground. He felt a hand on his shoulder briefly before he heard the clicking of heels moving away from him. When Vegeta looked up, Hurandra was gone, and his eyes burned. He blinked rapidly, furious at himself for allowing her words to affect him.

Vegeta continued his hunt and eventually found the media room. He entered to see his ship's comms unit hooked up to a screen. He turned the screen on and played the first message.

Bulma showed up on the large screen, her head three times the size of her in real life. Vegeta took a step back, feeling his stomach drop at the tears in her eyes - so like the ones from his dreams.

"Vegeta," she said.

Her voice… hearing her made him gasp. She looked directly at him as she spoke, and even though he knew this was recorded some time ago, he felt as though she was there, singing her siren's call to him now.

"Come home."

The message cut out. Vegeta sat down shakily in a chair, drawing in a few steadying breaths before playing the next message.

This time she wasn't crying, but her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes wild. "Don't you ignore me, you fucking bastard! Pick up!"

Bulma dropped her head into her arms. When she lifted it again, she looked more tired than angry. "I'm pregnant," she said.

Vegeta inhaled sharply. It was lucky he was sitting, because he felt as if the floor had dropped out from under him.

"And yes, before you ask, it's yours," she added.

Vegeta frowned at that. Of course it was his. If he'd smelt any other man on her he'd have ripped them to shreds.

"We are having a baby." Bulma jabbed her finger at the screen. "So, turn that ship around and get your Saiyan butt back to Earth!"

Vegeta check the date of the message, feeling ill. How long was a human's gestational period? He'd been gone nearly one Earth year.

Vegeta played the next message. In this one Bulma wore overalls that showed off her growling belly. "Say hi to your papa!" She said, rubbing her stomach. She looked up at the screen. "Not that you care, but I had a scan today. Baby looks healthy. Do you want to know if it is a boy or a girl?" She grinned at the camera.

She was beautiful. She had no makeup on, her hair was a mess, but she was radiant - the happiest he had ever seen her.

"Block your ears if you want it to be a surprise," she said. "It's a boy. I admit, I would have liked a daughter, but a son…"

Vegeta shut his eyes. A son. He was going to have a son. He probably already _had_ a son. Vegeta had never wanted children. Who in their right mind wanted to bring a child into this fucked up universe? Besides, how was he supposed to be a good role model? Mass murderers didn't make good fathers.

When Vegeta opened his eyes, Bulma was looking back down at her stomach.

"Hopefully he'll take after me," She said. "Good looking, smart, _reliable_." She looked at the screen with that last word, raising an eyebrow. "If you decide that returning to Earth isn't beneath you, your highness, feel free to join us."

Vegeta kept watching the other messages as each of them detailed different stages of her pregnancy. Finally, after seeing messages from Bulma looking large enough to burst, she appeared again, for one last message. She held a small bundle in her arms. Unlike during pregnancy, Bulma looked exhausted. She had dark circles under her eyes, and looked almost deflated in the way she held herself.

"He takes after you," she said into the camera. "All he does is eat and scream and eat and scream. I named him Trunks." She turned the bundle around to reveal a round, scrunched face with a tuft of purple hair. "I should have named him Vegeta Jr. Or Devil Spawn."

Vegeta leaned forward, peering at the boy to see if there was any resemblance to him. The kid didn't look Saiyan in the slightest.

"He has your eyes," Bulma said as if she'd travelled through space and time to answer his question. "Especially when he is angry, which it any time he's not eating." She let out a deep sigh. "You said you'd contact me when you are coming back. I'm afraid… I'm afraid that you aren't coming back at all. I'm scared that you…" She bit her lip and blinked furiously. "Please call me and tell me you aren't dead. Please…"

The message stopped and the screen went black.

Vegeta stared at the black screen for a long while, unmoving. Eventually, he leaned forward and set the comms unit to make a call.

* * *

 **A/N: Yay! Bulma's back! I missed writing her. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next update coming soon...**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

Bulma rubbed her eyes and took a second look at the schematics of her latest invention. Something wasn't quite right with the design, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly what the problem was.

She blamed a lack of sleep. Trunks had her up almost every hour wanting to feed. Bulma's mother was looking after him now, to give Bulma a 'break', but inevitably her breaks always ended up with her in the office instead of catching up on much needed sleep.

A buzzing sound made her look to the left. The small screen that she'd been using to send Vegeta messages flashed with a green incoming call icon.

Bulma stared at it, wondering if she was hallucinating. She'd stared at the screen so often, willing it to ring, and now that it was, she felt frozen in place. Finally, she realised that if she didn't pick up, the caller might not call back. She leapt forward to hit the accept call button, breathing heavily.

Vegeta appeared on the screen. To her relief, he looked well. Although he had a gash on his forehead and appeared pale and tired, he seemed otherwise uninjured, at least from his torso up. He wasn't in the spaceship, but instead in a darkly lit room, sitting in a plush chair that could have been made from leather.

Neither of them said anything for a moment. They both sat there, staring at one another. His mouth parted slightly, as if he was going to say something, but he remained silent, matching her gaze with his dark, unblinking one. Kami, even through the screen, she could feel the tension rolling off him. With his muscles coiled tight, he almost looked as if he would jump through her screen.

"You look like shit," he said finally, his mouth turning into a smirk. The accent that he'd slowly started to lose while on Earth was back, with some new tones to it.

Bulma knew she should retaliate to him comment, but she did look like shit - she hadn't showered in two days or changed out of her pyjamas. And if she was being honest, she was too happy to see him alive to feel insulted.

"You're okay," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The ship stopped sending co-ordinates a couple of months after you left. It's been so long, I thought…"

Vegeta furrowed his brow into a furious scowl. "Do you have no faith in me at all?"

Bulma glared back at him. "Let me see… you left without saying goodbye-"

"-I left a note!"

"Didn't answer my messages," she continued.

"I didn't get them."

"Left me, while I was pregnant, to go through birthing a freaking alien baby, and then look after it all by myself!" Bulma's voice rose an octave at the end, and she sank into the back of her chair, taking deep, calming breaths.

"I didn't know." Vegeta kept up his expressionless, unblinking gaze.

"You didn't get _any_ of my messages?" Bulma raised her eyebrows. How stupid did he think she was? He was in that ship for months, and seriously not tempted to listen to them?

"No." Vegeta narrowed his eyes. "You don't believe me."

"Because you've proven yourself to be so trustworthy?" Bulma shot back. "What am I supposed to believe?"

"I broke the comms unit!" Vegeta threw up his hands in annoyance. "I just had it fixed and watched them. I didn't know about the brat, ok?"

"Don't call him that!" Bulma gritted her teeth. Ugh, she'd only been talking to him for a few minutes and she already wanted to kill him. "His name is Trunks."

"I think I prefer Demon Spawn." Vegeta gave her a wry smile and Bulma felt her anger melt a little.

"When you coming back?" She asked, holding her breath for his answers.

Vegeta tapped his fingers on the arms of the plush chair he sat in. "I'll be back before the androids arrive."

"Before the…" Bulma inhaled sharply. "You mean you're not leaving now?"

Vegeta shrugged, and stared off to the distance, looking bored. "I have some things to take care of first."

Bulma flushed and clenched her fist around the pencil in her hand. "What could be more important than meeting your son?"

Vegeta scoffed and shook his head. "I can think of plenty. Meeting him is the lowest item on my priority list. It shouldn't even be on the list."

"You can't be serious!" Bulma heard a snap in her hand as the pencil broke. "He's your son, Vegeta. Meeting him should be your first priority."

Vegeta leaned back in his chair, shrugging nonchalantly. "Why? It will just confuse the boy when I leave again."

"You…" Bulma dropped the splintered pencil on the desk. Her mouth stayed open, but she couldn't find the words. He wasn't planning on staying. He was going to fight the androids, then leave her and Trunks… again. "Even if you had known I was pregnant, you wouldn't have come back," she finally managed to say.

Vegeta shut his eyes briefly. When he opened them, their black depths were cold. "I suppose we will never know."

"You are going to fight the androids then leave. You'd really leave your son?"

"I will not take him from you, if that is what you are asking," Vegeta said.

A cold tingle swept through Bulma. She'd never considered the idea that Vegeta might want their son but not her, and that he could simply take off with him into space. "And you will leave me. Again."

Vegeta stayed silent for a long moment. When he replied, it was in an oddly still tone. "I have no reason to stay."

"Fuck you," Bulma said, glaring at the screen. She slammed her finger down on the end call button to cut the connection, just before the tears started flowing.

* * *

Vegeta stared at the black screen, unable to move. His heart thudded in his chest so hard it ached. Slowly, Vegeta forced himself to relax. He peeled his fingers from the arms of the chair he'd been gripping - he'd held it so tight to force himself not to cave that there were now indents in the material.

It _hurt_. Seeing her angry… knowing the hate in her eyes was directed at him. He felt as though he'd been stabbed and the knife was still being twisted. Vegeta didn't lie if he could avoid it, but it had to be done. It was better that she hated him. That way she couldn't convince him to stay, and he couldn't hurt her or the son he would never know.

He stood up and left the room hurriedly, terrified that he would call her again and take it all back. Instead, he wandered the palace halls aimlessly, limping slightly on his injured leg, but putting up with the pain. At least it was a distraction.

The palace was in surprisingly good shape considering the loyalists had taken it over. They hadn't done any major damage, and even all the paintings were still on the walls. After stalking the halls for an age, Vegeta stopped when he came across a portrait of someone familiar.

He stared at the painting in front of him, marvelling at how well the artist had captured the subject's likeness. Her unruly dark hair hung about her shoulders with errant curls pushed back by an invisible breeze. The red highlights twisted through her hair, glittering as if the sun had caught them.

Her mouth had the quirk of a smile on the right side, and her golden eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the corners. It was an expression Vegeta knew well, for she wore it often around him.

Vegeta lifted a hand to touch the bottom of the frame. It had been years, and he was no longer the same man who had loved her. Shit, he hadn't even been a man back then. He'd been a mere boy, playing games he didn't understand the consequences of until it was too late.

He shut his eyes and leaned his head on his outstretched arm. He missed her. Or maybe he just missed the way she'd made him feel. He'd been empty since she died, and Frieza's death, which robbed him of his purpose, had only made it worse.

The Earthling woman had stopped that emptiness for a while, but Vegeta didn't want to examine his feelings for _her_ to closely. Not only did they feel like a betrayal to Kalyana, but they scared him because they were different.

Everything with Kalyana had been easy. She understood him and knew what he'd been through. She would never have run from his past because hers was as brutal and bloody as his. Kalyana and Vegeta has simply… fit.

With Bulma, it had been like a wildfire. Slow to start, with only the barest flicker, but then they caught alight and he'd been unable to put them out. She _was_ the fire - burning bright enough to hide the darkness inside him. But the darkness never really left, and Bulma could never truly know him. Never understand the beast that lay in wait inside him, desperate to kill. And If Kalyana, a fierce warrior, hadn't been safe from Vegeta, then Bulma didn't stand a chance.

* * *

Bulma snuck into her son's bedroom. She would never normally disturb him while he napped, but she _needed_ to see him. He lay on his crib, chest rising and falling gently, his little brow furrowed slightly in an expression that looked so much like Vegeta that she wanted to weep.

She hadn't been expecting her son to look like a combination of the two of them. She'd pictured a little dark-haired Vegeta, running around Capsule Corp and being a hellraiser. Or a little girl with blue hair and a knack for fixing things. But this? Her son had Vegeta's eyes, her mouth, and a tuft of purple hair sticking out of the warm hat she'd placed on his head. Asleep and peaceful, he was the image of perfection.

She stroked his sleeping face with one finger, smiling down at her son. Purple hair. Vegeta must be horrified at how un-Saiyan it was.

 _If he even cared._

Her smile fell at the thought. Vegeta hadn't sounded like himself when he called - at least, not like the Vegeta she'd come to know. Had his time in space changed him that much?

A lone tear rolled down her cheek, landing on Trunks' blanket. As angry as she was with Vegeta, she didn't miss him any less than she had when he first left. All this time she'd been holding out hope that he would return, and decide to stay. What a joke that dream was.

Bulma brushed the tear from her face and sniffed. She had done fine on her own so far, and would be perfectly fine without Vegeta after the androids came. For her son, she had to be.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading so far, and a special thanks to everyone who adds reviews. Every time I get one it motivates me to write that next sentence, or paragraph, or scene! Not long now until we have the two not-so-loving lovebirds back on the same planet...**


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

 _Vegeta sat on a low wall in the Jalakal palace garden, reading to escape the noise and chaos of the palace. He'd enjoyed his time on Jalak so far, and his injuries were healing well, but being around so many people set him on edge._

 _He'd made an escape and spent the last hour enjoying the warm sun and the feeling of being alone. Or he had been. Vegeta looked up at the sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel path._

 _"There you are." Kalyana approached at a slow stroll. When she reached him, she leaned against the wall and peered at his book. "What are you reading now?" She plucked the book from Vegeta's hands and turned the book over, studying the pages. "What language is this?"_

 _Vegeta scowled and jumped off the wall. "Give it back." He snatched it out of her hands and held it to his chest. "It's Fekahran."_

 _Kalyana hopped up on the wall and grinned at him. "Seriously? You can read Fekahran?"_

 _Vegeta climbed back on the wall and sat beside her. They both stared ahead, looking at the flowering garden, a vibrant tamed jungle of reds and oranges. Their shoulders touched, and the heat of her next to him made him want to put his arm around her and pull her close. But that was something Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyan's would never do._

 _"There's a pattern to languages," he said instead, watching her out of the corner of his eye. "I wrote an algorithm for translating them, then used the patterns to learn them faster."_

 _Kalyana threw her head back, sending her long hair streaming behind her in the breeze. She laughed loudly, the sound filling the quiet garden. "You are quite the intellectual! I never would have guessed."_

 _Vegeta looked down and frowned, unsure of whether she was insulting him. He liked Kalyana, although he couldn't figure out why since he never liked anyone. Even so, he wasn't going to hide who he was to make_ her _like_ him _._

 _Kalyana leaned towards him, nudging him with her shoulder. When Vegeta met her gaze, she flashed him a wide smile. "I've always wanted to learn Fekahran. Will you teach me?"_

 _Vegeta allowed a small smile to creep onto his face. "If you wish."_

* * *

"I wish you would stay." Elrik clasped Vegeta's hand and bowed his head, touching his forehead to their joined hands in a sign of Jalakal farewell.

They stood on the palace docking station, Vegeta's ship behind them, already powered up and ready to leave. Vegeta returned the gesture, glad that after so many years he and Elrik were on terms good enough to even warrant a goodbye. At the same time, he ached inside at the idea of leaving and once again being completely alone.

"I'm not sure I can do this on my own." Elrik said. They broke contact and stepped back.

"You have your mother," Vegeta pointed out. Hurandra hadn't come to see Vegeta off - not that he was surprised. She'd been nothing but polite to him since meeting him in the hall, but even though she seemed to have forgiven him for her daughter's death, he knew she hadn't forgotten, and never would.

Elrik rolled his eyes skywards and let out a groan. "That's why I need you, V. To stop her from taking over."

Vegeta laughed and shook his head. "I must go. My injuries are healed, the ship is repaired and stocked. You've run out of excuses for me to stay and I have a destiny to fulfil."

"Killing some robots to save a planet you don't care about doesn't seem like much of a destiny to me," Elrik said. "You could do good here. Help my people rebuild."

"I promised I would return to Earth to fight," Vegeta said stiffly. He hadn't told Elrik about Bulma… or the child. Elrik knew him better than anyone else alive, but still wouldn't understand his decision to leave both Jalak _and_ Earth.

"Fine, fine." Elrik held up his hands defensively. "But where will you go, once you've 'met your destiny'? You can't wander the universe forever, V."

"I will return to Jalak if you have great need of me, but it would be temporary. I can't…" Vegeta shut his eyes. Staying here would be the easiest path. He would have a home, and a friend… but it would be just as dangerous as staying on Earth. Eventually no-one would be safe from him. He opened his eyes and looked at Elrik, who's brow was furrowed with concern. "If you need me, I will come."

Elrik sighed, but nodded his reluctant acceptance. "Very well. I'd say stay safe but… maybe don't die is more appropriate."

Vegeta grinned at that. "Be well, Elrik." He turned and marched towards his ship. He turned as he boarded, raising his hand in a farewell gesture he'd learnt on Earth. Then he hit the button to close the ship and left Jalak behind.

* * *

"Don't let it get above 985,000 psi," Bulma ordered into the phone. She held it with her shoulder to her ear while balancing Trunks on her hip with one arm, and scribbling notes next to a broken algorithm with her spare hand. "Yes, I'm sure! Not one psi over… do you like your arms and legs attached? Yes? Unless you want an explosion on your hands, keep the fuck- I mean freaking pressure down."

The technician on the other end mumbled something apologetic, but Bulma hung up on him before he had a chance to finish it.

"The number of people who don't use their brain cells is astounding," Bulma said, putting her pencil down. She turned Trunks around and bounced him on her knee. "Isn't that right, little man?"

Trunks gurgled and clapped his hands in response.

"At least you're a clever boy!" Bulma laughed and leaned forward to blow a raspberry on his stomach.

Trunks shrieked in delight, and Bulma grinned back at him. Now that Trunks was only waking up one or two times in the night, she finally felt like she was getting the hang of the "mother" thing. For a while she'd been sure that she wasn't cut out for it, but in the last month she'd run a successful product launch, and made progress on her latest invention which would improve crop growth in poor soil exponentially, all while balancing time with Trunks. "And all without your silly papa!" She cooed at her son.

She hadn't heard from that arrogant, infuriating Saiyan since he'd called. Not that she expected anything else - he'd made his feelings very clear.

But between Trunks and her work she'd been almost too busy to think about it. Now that the androids' arrival was weeks away instead of months, she started wondering if Vegeta would come back at all. Maybe the idea of a son had scared him off from returning.

Bulma's phone rang again. She put Trunks in the play area she'd created in her office and picked up.

" _What_?" She asked by way of greeting.

"We're having some problems with the psi. It's fluctuating more than it should."

Bulma sighed and sank into her office chair. "What's the max psi so far?"

"948,000."

"Have you released the left corada valve? No?" Bulma groaned and let her head fall in her hand. "Yes you should do that now! Kami, I left clear instructions. You have functioning eyes. Use them."

She hung up and flung her cellphone across her desk.

"Ba!" Trunks yelled from his playpen.

"Yes," Bulma said with a huff. "Bad."

* * *

The moment Vegeta stepped off the ship and breathed in Earth's well-oxygenated air, he'd wanted to fly straight to Capsule Corp. Vegeta resisted as long as he could, but had finally caved.

It must have been just past midnight. Vegeta sat on the railing of a small balcony at Capsule Corp, focussing on the glass door in front of him even though the curtains were drawn.

While he couldn't see inside, he managed to plot out where each individual was by honing in on their ki. Dr Briefs could be found in the labs. Mrs Briefs was in her bedroom, and judging by her low ki level, fast asleep. Bulma was in the room in front of him, along with another ki that felt oddly familiar. The blend of her ki and his into this whole other being would have been unfathomable if he hadn't been there, sensing it now.

As if she'd sensed him, Vegeta felt Bulma's ki move towards the door. He didn't move when she opened it, but when she stepped outside, holding the infant, he stiffened.

"You're back." Bulma eyed him warily and she bounced gently up and down, patting the small bundle on its back.

Vegeta didn't respond… couldn't respond. The only thing he wanted to do was drink her in. She looked different. Her hair was straight - almost like it had been on Namek - and her clothes were more practical than what he'd become used to. She smelt different too. Sweeter. Less fruity. The boy's scent clung to her as well, their two scents blending together into one.

Bulma stepped forward until she stood close enough for him to reach out and touch. He didn't, of course, and neither did she.

"You did it?" She asked. "You became the legendary Super Saiyan?"

Vegeta frowned at her mocking tone, but nodded.

"Good. Well done, I suppose, although I'm still pissed that you decided to go off planet to do it," Bulma said. She turned the child around to face Vegeta. "This is your son."

The brat stared at him for a moment, then yawned.

Unable to stop himself, Vegeta leaned in slightly, studying the shape of this eyes, noses and lips. At first glance there was nothing Saiyan about him other than a high level of ki. He looked soft, with some chubbiness about the face, and no sign of any real muscle strength. But maybe Bulma had been right when she'd said the boy looked like him in the eyes.

Under Vegeta's intense gaze, the boy's open mouthed yawn changed into a high-pitched wail.

Vegeta covered his ears with his hands. "What's wrong with it?" He yelled over the screaming. "Is it broken?"

Bulma laughed and moved the boy back over her shoulder and started bouncing again. "He's cranky because it's bed time."

"Turn it off!" Vegeta winced as the sound grew ten more decibels, making his sensitive ears ache.

Bulma rolled her eyes and took the noisemaker back inside, sliding the door shut behind her.

A few minutes later the noise had subsided and Bulma returned - thankfully without the brat.

"He's asleep," she said.

"That sound… is normal?" Vegeta looked over her shoulder and into the room, concentrating on the boy's ki. It had lowered slightly in sleep, but still emanated a strength no human child would possess.

"Aw." Bulma batted her eyelashes at Vegeta. "Is papa worried about his son?"

Vegeta scowled at her. "I'm concerned about how anyone will get any peace and quiet with that blasted creature around."

"Of course you are." Bulma moved so she leaned against the railing next to Vegeta, looking out in the opposite direction towards the gardens. "Where's my ship?"

"A few hours' flight away," Vegeta said.

Bulma glanced sideways at him. "You look good for someone who just got back from spending months in space."

"I've been back for a while."

Bulma straightened and fixed her sharp glare on him. "How long is a while?"

"A couple of weeks." Vegeta dropped his gaze to the floor to avoid the hurt flashing through Bulma's eyes.

"Weeks. You've been back for weeks and you didn't come see us." Bulma drew in a couple of deep breaths. "Kami, you are serious about not only being back to fight the androids. Is that all you care about? The next big fight?" She prodded his chest with her finger. "And what are you doing here now? I suppose you expect to waltz in here, eat my food, use my rooms until the fight, then waltz right back out again?"

Vegeta swore in Jalak and grabbed her wrist to stop the prodding. "Stop that, woman. I don't know what waltz means, but now that you mention food, I am hungry."

Bulma tugged her hand out of his. "If you weren't helping save the planet, I'd tell you to get lost!"

"I'm not here to save the planet," Vegeta said. "I'm here to fight. That is all. I don't care one bit about this mudball."

"You mean you don't care about me," Bulma ground out.

Vegeta didn't reply, knowing she would take it as agreement.

Bulma's cheeks flushed pink. "You seemed to care something for me before you left Earth. What happened Vegeta? Did you decide you're too hung up on Kalyana to want to be with me? She's dead, Vegeta! I'm alive and right here, and so is your son."

Vegeta felt like the railing had fallen out from under him. He stepped off it and stood on the balcony, gripping the railing tight with his hands. "How… how do you know about her?"

"Uh…" Bulma turned even more pink, but this time it looked like it was from embarrassment, not anger. "You said her name in your sleep when you were sick."

Vegeta's breathing sped up as he struggled to get enough air in his lungs. "You know she's dead. How?"

"You told me… and… uh."

"Spit it out!" Vegeta snapped.

"I took a copy of your chip and watched the videos when you were sick to see if there was anything that could help you," Bulma said, her words coming out in a tumble that took Vegeta a moment to decipher. "Between that and what you were saying I pieced it together."

"You copied my chip." Vegeta kept his voice level, but he could feel every molecule in his body vibrating, wanting to explode.

Bulma took a step back. "I know I shouldn't have done that."

"I told you it was important to me." Vegeta's heartbeat pounded in his ears. "I asked you not to play around with it. I gave you files off it that you needed yet you copied the whole thing?"

"Vegeta, I didn't go through any of until you were sick and I thought I needed to. I swear."

"What fucking difference does that make?" he hissed. "You don't want me at your house? Fine. I don't want to be anywhere near an untrustworthy bitch like you."

"You're judging _me_ for something like that?" Bulma drew back, fire in her eyes. "Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!"

"I don't know what the fuck that means! I'm not a pot… or a kettle!" Vegeta roared. "I _trusted_ you with that chip and you copied it to advance your own company. It had nothing to do with me being sick."

"That's not the point!" Bulma jabbed him on the chest again with her finger. "You are only here for the fight, and don't give a shit about me or our son."

Vegeta rose into the air, ready to get the fuck out of there. His chest heaved and he clenched his fists as hard as he could, horrified at the burning sensation at the back of his eyes. "Apparently, I was right not to," Vegeta shot back. "It seems that you don't give a shit about me either."

* * *

 **A/N: This was my take on why Vegeta and Bulma were on such bad terms at the beginning of the android saga. There will be some time jumping in the next few chapters as I don't want to rewrite existing scenes from DBZ. I'll do my best to make it flow nicely. For those of you shipping Vegata and Kalyana, don't fret - there will be more flashbacks to come!**


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

His _son_. Was the boy from the future really the older version of that weak, squishy, loud infant?

Vegeta stared at the young man, unable to form words or clear thoughts. He balled his shaking hands. Of course it was his son. There weren't exactly many other possibilities. How had he not seen this earlier?

When the boy met his gaze, Vegeta wrenched himself away. He couldn't get attached. It was easy enough to dismiss a crying, smelly infant who couldn't talk, but a fully-grown teenager was another thing although.

 _Ignore him_ , Vegeta decided. Don't get to know him in any way, and at the end of this he could still leave this planet, and his son behind. No attachments. No sentiment. No problem.

* * *

Her _son_. Bulma grinned at the thought. Her adorable baby boy would grow up to be that handsome, well-mannered boy from the future. A hero!

She watched him, trying to figure out if he was more like her or Vegeta. Definitely her, she decided. He was too polite and he didn't have the same natural arrogance that Vegeta simply oozed.

She caught the boy's eye and smiled. Teenage Trunks blushed and looked away. Aw, he was too cute!

Bulma hugged baby Trunks close and decided she wanted to know every single thing she could find out about this young man. After all, it might help her in parenting her own version of her son in the future.

* * *

Vegeta saw Dr Gero fire - saw the blast go straight towards the flying metal contraption.

Time froze on the image of a flash of light and Bulma's face, her eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

He wanted to move – he knew he should do something. But in that instant, Bulma's face had been replaced by another and he was back on Frieza's base, holding Kalyana in his arms while the flash of ki he sent through her heart blinded him.

The teenage version of his son rescued them instead, and threw Vegeta a look horrified look when he landed with them in his arms. Vegeta muttered something about not caring about the woman or the blasted child to disguise the fact that he felt the same disgust with himself that was written all over Trunks' face.

Here he was, one of the strongest beings in the universe, and he was too weak and too damaged to be able to save the only person on this planet that he cared about.

It only made Vegeta's resolve to leave Earth after all this stronger.

* * *

"This is so exciting!" Mrs Briefs clapped her hands together, looking around at everyone sitting at the table. She smiled widely at Trunks. "How many people get to meet the future version of their grandchild!"

Trunks felt his face heat up as everyone's gaze turned on him. Well, almost everyone. His father seemed to be making a point of looking anywhere but Trunks, and was at this moment focussed intently on the plate of food in front of him. They were going into the Hyperbolic Time Chamber together tomorrow to train for the battle with Cell, but Trunks wasn't sure how long his father was planning on keeping this up. What if he acted like this for the whole year?

"A Saiyan from the future," Dr Briefs said, tapping his fingers together. "You'd think with all the geniuses in this family, one of us would have figured it out."

Vegeta snorted at that. "I guess you're all idiots then."

"I was counting you in the genius group," Dr Briefs said with a chuckle. "I saw the IQ test Bulma did on you."

Trunks smothered a smile at the pink creeping onto his father's cheeks. Maybe he got the blushing from his father.

"You are still both fucking idiots." Vegeta glared at the doctor, shovelling more food into his mouth.

"Hey!" Bulma slapped her hand on the table, making her cutlery jump. "Don't swear in front of Trunks."

Vegeta looked directly at Trunks with a frown. Trunks stared back. His father's eyes were odd - probably the most alien thing about him. He wasn't sure if he had irises because they were so black. He didn't blink as often as a human either, and no emotion radiated from them. They were cold, bottomless pits. The effect was unnerving.

"The boy is old enough to cuss," Vegeta said.

"Not that Trunks!" Bulma indicated to Trunks' younger self who was sitting next to her in a high chair. "If you got your head out of your ass you'd remember you had a son!"

"Who can't talk," Vegeta pointed out. "Besides, every curse word I know in this language I learnt from your foul mouth."

Bulma flushed at that. Trunks frowned to himself. Maybe he got it from both his parents.

"Regardless," Vegeta said with a wave of the hand holding his chopsticks. "You are by far the bigger idiot for not figuring it out."

"How did you come to that conclusion, Your Highness?" Bulma asked through gritted teeth.

Trunks, recognising that tone as one his mother used when she was about to blow, started eating quickly, concentrating on his noodles.

"You knew you were pregnant with a Saiyan half-breed-"

"Half-breed?" Bulma growled.

"-and when he was born with that atrocious colouring-"

Trunks looked up at that, glaring at his father. Not that he could tell since his gaze was fixed firmly on Bulma, who was turning redder and redder each moment.

"What is wrong with lavender hair?" Dr Briefs patted the top of his greying, but still distinctly purple head.

"Purple is literally the last colour in the universe I would want associated with me," Vegeta responded without looking at the doctor. "But the colour should have been a giveaway. A Saiyan with purple hair arrives from the future wearing a Capsule Corp jacket. You birth a Saiyan hybrid with purple hair. Seems fairly obvious, doesn't it?"

"You didn't click onto it either!" Bulma stood up, sending her chopsticks off her plate and onto the floor.

"I've seen the kid, what… twice?" Vegeta stood up too, leaning over the table towards Bulma.

Trunks found his gaze flicking from one parent to the other. They looked like they were about to leap over the table and kill each other.

"And whose fault is that?" Bulma bared her teeth at Vegeta.

Trunks glanced at his grandparents, who kept eating as if nothing untoward was happening. Was this normal for them?

"Did pregnancy damage your brain cells?" Vegeta asked. "Because you've seen this child every day for… how old is the brat? Months? Clearly your genius days are over because between that and taking an infant into a fucking battle because you were 'curious', it clearly shows that you have no brain at all!"

Trunks having finally had enough, stood up as well. "Don't speak to her like that!"

Vegeta straightened and looked taken aback. Maybe. Trunks found it hard to tell with his father. "I suppose you think her going to see the androids was a brilliant idea," Vegeta said evenly, his voice laced with a heavier accent than usual.

"Well, no, but-"

"She nearly died!" Vegeta cried out. He then looked at Bulma and said in a quieter voice, "You nearly died."

"And you didn't do anything to help," Bulma replied. She didn't look angry though, Trunks realised. The red had faded from her face, and her blue eyes studied Vegeta with the same kind of curiosity she had when inspecting a broken machine.

"No," Vegeta said. "I didn't." He spun around and stalked out of the room.

"Well," Dr Briefs said, looking at Trunks. "Good luck in the chamber, son. I think you are going to need it."

Trunks sat back down and poked his food miserably. He'd been looking forward to meeting his father so much, and now… the idea of being stuck with him for a year was terrifying.


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

Bulma stood outside Vegeta's door. She knew the rest of her family thought Vegeta was out of line, but she saw his face when he said she'd nearly died. He might not have saved her, but she didn't think it was because he didn't care. His expressions were hard to read, especially since so many were different from humans, but she could read him better than anyone else on Earth. The incident with Dr Gero had upset him, she _knew_ it.

She knocked on his door, but as expected, he didn't answer. She opened the door anyway, then walked in.

Vegeta lay on his bed, on top of the covers. His arms were crossed behind his head and he stared blankly at the ceiling, not moving a muscle when she entered. He already had a couple of books on his nightstand, but other than that the room was barer than it had been the last time he'd stayed.

"Can we talk?" Bulma asked.

Vegeta let out a huff of air, and stayed silent.

Bulma just waited, leaning against the doorway. She recognised this mood of his. He'd fallen into it often enough while he was staying with her, and she knew there wasn't much that would bring him out of it.

"I didn't think Frieza himself could stop you talking when you wanted to," Vegeta finally said. He turned his head to look at her. "What do you want to say that hasn't already been said?"

Bulma sighed. He always made things so difficult. "I don't want you going off into that chamber when we are…" She waved her hands to gesture at him, and then her. "…like this."

Vegeta groaned, then sat up, swinging his legs off the bed so he faced her, but then leaned forward, hands on his knees so he was looking at the ground. "There isn't anything either of us could say to fix what's broken between us."

"I know you're angry. I am too. But-"

"Angry?" Vegeta looked back up. "Angry doesn't even… you took an _infant_ to a battleground. You put yourself and our son in the line of fire."

Bulma's breath hitched as she realised that was the first time Vegeta had referred to Trunks as _their_ son, not hers.

Vegeta wasn't finished though. "On top of that, you copied my chip. Forget all the reasons I didn't want to stay on Earth. Even if there had been a part of me that…" Vegeta stared at her, his dark eyes wide. "I trusted you. I never trust _anyone_. And you…"

"That's not fair!" Bulma grit her teeth. This Saiyan was the most ungrateful man she'd ever met. "You were sick Vegeta. I was afraid you were dying. I needed to find anything I could to help you."

"You must have copied the files before I got sick!" Vegeta stood up and his ki rose, lighting the room with a purple aura.

Bulma shrank back, startled by the brilliant light. His muscled chest rose and fell with as he took deep breaths, and the light slowly faded.

"I gave you access to those files to help you,' Vegeta said. "Not so you could invade my privacy. You had no right to do that. None at all."

"But-"

"There is no 'but', Bulma!" Vegeta slammed his fist down on the nightstand beside him, cracking it in half and sending the books flying so they landed in front of Bulma.

"Oh, you are one to get high and mighty about doing the right thing!" Bulma picked up one of the books that had fallen and threw it at him. Of course, the jerk caught it with one hand.

"Don't test me, woman," he said through gritted teeth.

Bulma let out a cry of frustration and threw another book at him, which again he caught. "You're planning on _abandoning_ your son, Vegeta. If you're wanting to win the universe's shittiest father award, you must be the top contender, because you're doing a fucking fantastic job!"

"Is everything alright?" A stiff voice came from the doorway.

"Get out!" Bulma and Vegeta yelled in unison.

Bulma turned to see her son - the older version - standing in the doorway and surveying the damage to the room. Bulma sucked in a breath and unclenched her hands, wincing as the release of pressure made the indents where her nails had been cutting in sting. "We're fine Trunks," she said in a softer tone. "Your father and I are just… uh… clearing the air."

Vegeta snorted. "Is that what you call it here?"

Bulma threw him a sharp glare. "What do you call it on your planet, oh Prince of all Saiyans"

Vegeta cocked his head and set his predatory gaze on her. "On my planet, you'd be dead for your insolence."

Trunks let out a hiss and stepped into the room. Cursing under her breath, Bulma blocked Trunks from entering. "I was leaving anyway. Come on Trunks, are you hungry? How about make something to eat?" She took Trunks by the elbow, dragging him out the door after her. She threw Vegeta one last glare, then shut the door behind her.

"He's dangerous," Trunks said in a low voice as they headed down the hall. "I felt his ki. He could have killed you."

"Vegeta wouldn't hurt me. Not on purpose - not even in anger." She looked sideways at her grown up son. "How much your mother tell you about him?"

Trunks frowned. "Hardly anything. I thought it was because it was too painful to talk about, but now I think she just didn't want to tell me the truth." He looked down at his shaking clenched fists. "He's a monster."

Bulma stopped in her tracks. "Don't say that about him."

Trunks looked at her, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "He didn't lift a finger to help you when Dr Gero nearly killed you. The way he speaks to you… Why are you defending him?"

"He's not a monster," Bulma said sharply. "He's a stubborn ass, and maddening, and his moral compass is all kinds of fucked up…"

"You're not helping his case here," Trunks said, shaking his head.

"Your father is also exceptionally intelligent, and when he's not brooding, has a surprisingly good sense of humour." Bulma laughed sadly, remembering the dry comments he would make so unexpectedly. "He's brave to the point of stupidity, and when he is focussed on a goal he is the most dedicated man you will ever meet."

"You love him." Trunks frowned, a puzzled expression that looked like Vegeta when he didn't understand an Earthling reference.

"Yes."

"None of that excuses his behaviour."

"No, it doesn't." Bulma sighed, wondering how much to say. Alternative universe Bulma hadn't told Trunks anything, and she probably had her reasons. "Vegeta doesn't understand kindness because he never experienced it. He had a… rough childhood."

" _I_ had a rough childhood," Trunks snapped. "My world has been destroyed by androids, remember?"

"Oh sweetheart." Bulma reached up and touched her son's cheek. "I'm not saying that the way your father has been acting is ok, but don't judge him for things you can't possibly understand."

Trunks pulled away angrily, and stomped down the hallway. Bulma sighed. How were those two going to survive in the chamber? Chances are one of them would kill the other before the end of it.

* * *

He found himself unable to sleep in the early hours of the morning. That wasn't unusual for him, but this time it was because he'd been tracking Bulma's ki for the last three hours. She'd remained in the kitchen without moving for the last twenty minutes. What was she doing?

She was upset. He could tell from her ki, which buzzed with slight fluctuations. He knew it was his fault - the things he'd said to her since he'd got back might have held some elements of truth to them, but he'd fired them like ki blasts aimed for the heart, knowing exactly how to word them for maximum impact.

He sat up with a sigh. He couldn't lock himself in the chamber for a year with her like this. It might only be a day for her, but he'd stew on it for the whole year. It would break his concentration, distract him from his training.

That was his excuse, at least, as he pulled on a t-shirt and sweat pants then made his way to the kitchen.

She looked up from her container of ice cream when he entered. They both froze - her with her mouth open and the spoon hovering near it, and him with his hand still on the handle.

When she blinked slowly, then continued eating, Vegeta found his feet could move again so he closed the door behind him and walked over. He sat in the barstool next to her, feeling the heat of her gaze, but unwilling to look back at her for fear of losing what little willpower he had left.

Silently, Bulma pushed the container of ice cream and the spoon towards him. Vegeta took the spoon and had a taste, grimacing at the overwhelming sweetness. He hadn't eaten anything this sweet since before he left Earth.

Bulma laughed and too late he forgot his resolve to avoid her gaze, and looked up. She shook her head and took the container back eating some and then licking the spoon slowly, all while staring at him.

He'd made a mistake coming down here. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to pick up her light body, press her against the wall and make her forget what a terrible person he was by making her scream his name until her throat hurt.

She knew it too. He could tell from the cheeky glint in her eye. He could smell arousal rising on her as well. She leaned towards him and _shit…_ he had to do something to stop this or he'd lose himself.

"I heard what you said to the boy," he blurted out.

Bulma pulled back, her brow creasing in puzzlement.

"After you left my room," he clarified. "Trunks thinks I'm a monster and you, apparently, do not."

"He's wrong," Bulma said, laying a hand on Vegeta's. "You are not a monster."

"But he's right," Vegeta said, pulling his hand away. "The man you _think_ I am doesn't exist."

Bulma sighed and stood up. She went to the cupboard and pulled out a small container. When she sat back down next to Vegeta, she handed it to him.

"I know you are worried about spending a whole year in there," she said. "These will help with the headaches."

Vegeta looked at the bottle of pills. Some sort of migraine medication according to the label. "I assume you translated the medical records I left you."

"Yes."

"Then you know that as far as side effects go, headaches are the least of my worries." He put the pills in his pocket anyway, earning a smile from Bulma.

"After this is over… once Cell is defeated," she said, "I think I can help, if you let me."

"How?" Vegeta stared into her blue eyes, which widened under his gaze.

"I don't know yet." Bulma reached out and took his hand again. "I'd need to run some tests on you."

This time, Vegeta didn't pull away. "I don't think even a genius like you could reverse the damage that's been done to me."

"Oh, so I'm a genius now? I thought I was an idiot."

Vegeta snorted. "It baffles me, but you somehow manage both so well."

"Either way, shouldn't we try?" She squeezed his hand and leaned in closer. "Think about it at least. You have a year, after all."

"It won't work," he said, his voice cracking. He wanted nothing more than what she was saying to be true, but he knew the truth about himself. "It's not just the experiments. I'm just… broken."

"You're not beyond repair, Vegeta." She reached up and traced his jawline with her fingers. "And I know what you've been doing. You are so scared of hurting me that your hurting me to push me away. It's very counterproductive."

Vegeta laughed and shook his head, but Bulma cupped his face in both her hands.

"Don't push me away," she whispered. "Don't let what was done to you ruin the rest of your life."

He breathed her in, leaning into her caress. She didn't move as he inched closer, closing the gap between them, so he kissed her, unable to stop himself. She tasted of the strawberry ice cream, but on her the sweetness was less abrasive.

Vegeta stood up, pulling Bulma with him and knocking their barstools over. He began guiding her backwards towards the door with a vague idea of taking her to a bedroom. Her back hit the door and Vegeta pressed himself into her. When she moaned and writhed against him, Vegeta knew they weren't going to make it to a bedroom. His hands started searching for the tie of her dressing gown in an attempt to remove the layers of clothes between them.

Bulma made a muffled sound of agitation against his lips and Vegeta pulled back, breathing heavily.

She parted her red lips and glared at him, silent for a moment. "I'm still angry at you," she said slowly.

"Likewise," he replied.

Bulma stayed silent and still for a moment, but then smirked and tugged at the bottom of his t-shirt, manoeuvring it upwards.

"This doesn't change anything," Vegeta said. He pulled the shirt over his head, then dipped his head to find her collarbone with her lips.

"Not a thing," Bulma murmured her agreement as she traced the muscles on his stomach with her fingers. "You, your highness, are still a jerk."

Vegeta's hand found the tie to her silk dressing gown and he pulled it, letting it fall open to reveal her short nightdress. He pushed both garments off her shoulders until they fell to the floor, revealing all of her. "And you are still an idiot."

"A _genius_ idiot," Bulma corrected with a gasp as Vegeta pressed his lips to the dip in her chest.

"Indeed." He chuckled against her skin, then started trailing kisses downwards.

While he knew he would reach his ultimate goal and have her screaming his name by the end of the night, Vegeta had the distinct feeling that he had lost this battle.

For once, he didn't care.

* * *

 **A/N: So they've kissed and made up (sort of)! But will it last? I hope you enjoyed this chapter - writing them arguing is always so much fun.**


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

 _Raditz slammed two short glasses of green liquid on the table in front of Vegeta and Elrik. "Drink!" He commanded._

 _Elrik let out a whoop and tossed his drink back. "Raditz, you keep those drinks coming and we'll be good friends in no time."_

 _Vegeta rolled his eyes skywards, cursing his luck. Raditz and Nappa had both decided to 'swing by' Jalak before the next mission, since it was on the way. Elrik had been thrilled at having more new people to party with, especially since Vegeta had flat out refused since he arrived. Now that the other Saiyans were here, Vegeta had found himself dragged out in the middle of the night to a beach party teeming with people._

 _Both Elrik and Raditz looked at Vegeta, waiting expectantly._

 _"No." Vegeta glared at Raditz. "Last time I drank with you, I was sick for three days." He turned to Elrik. "And you remember what happened on Guunya."_

 _Elrik shuddered, but then grinned. "Tonight is a new night, V. Time for new, more pleasant memories!" He pushed the drink closer to Vegeta with one finger._

 _Vegeta hesitated, but he had to admit that drinking and forgetting about everything else for once was tempting. "I hate you both." Vegeta picked up the glass and drank the alcohol quickly, grimacing at the bitter taste and trying not to cough after._

 _Elrik and Raditz both cheered, and a bright flash of light made Vegeta squint. When his sight came back he realised Nappa lurked behind the others, pointing a camera to them._

 _"What do you think you are doing?" Vegeta asked, a low growl emanating from his throat._

 _"Getting proof," Nappa said with a toothy smile. "Our young Prince, letting loose. The miracle had to captured or no one would believe me!"_

 _Vegeta threw the empty glass at Nappa's head. The giant Saiyan didn't even flinch as the glass shattered on his bald forehead, and only grinned harder._

 _Four drinks later and Vegeta found the feeling of being constantly surrounded by people less daunting. There were five bonfires lit up and down the beach, and somehow Elrik had organised a tank the length of the beach and three people tall to be brought down and filled with water and unusual sea creatures to create a wall._

 _Elrik had disappeared to play host while Nappa had gone in search of the strongest alcohol he could find. Raditz slung his arm around Vegeta's shoulder and leaned on him. Normally Vegeta would have shrugged him off then punched him in the face for good measure, but Raditz handed him another drink so he had that instead._

 _"That girl's here," Raditz hissed in his ear._

 _"What girl?" Vegeta asked. Raditz went through girls like he went through food._

 _"The hot one. Elrik's sister."_

 _Vegeta glared at Raditz. "Touch her and die."_

 _"That why I'm telling you." Raditz laughed and nodded in her direction. "I saw the way you looked at her. You totally want to go there. A pity she's clearly not interested in you."_

 _Vegeta started to retort to that jab, but then spotted Kalyana not too far away, looking at a blue creature with multiple waving tentacles in the tank. She wore tight, shiny black pants, chunky black boots, and an oversized black shirt with rips up the side. Even Vegeta, who had never been to a beach party in his life could tell that it wasn't beach attire. Elrik had provided Vegeta with the blue shirt and loose grey trousers he currently wore, and had forbade him from footwear with threats to his life. Clearly Kalyana had somehow got past Elrik's fashion security check._

 _"Listen, Vegeta," Raditz said. "You are better at me than most things. Fighting, numbers, languages… getting the shit kicked out of you and surviving."_

 _"I glad you think so highly of me," Vegeta said, jabbing Raditz none-to-gently in his ribs._

 _Raditz winced, but stayed where he was. "However… not only am I your elder-"_

 _"Barely," Vegeta pointed out._

 _"-I'm better at you in three things." Raditz held up three fingers on the arm around Vegeta's shoulders and stared at them as if counting. "Number one. Drinking."_

 _Vegeta couldn't deny that one. Raditz might have been leaning a little heavier on him than should have been necessary, but he'd drunk more than anyone else at this party._

 _"Number two. Reaching things off tall shelves without flying."_

 _Vegeta swiped Raditz's arm away then landed a surprisingly accurate punch to the low-class Saiyan's face considering his own current sobriety levels._

 _Raditz landed on his back in the sand and started laughing. He sat up and wiped the blood off his mouth. "Hear me out, Vegeta!"_

 _Vegeta folded his arms and glared at Raditz. "Do you have a death wish?"_

 _Raditz took that as his cue to continue and help up three fingers again. "Number three-"_

 _"Oh look, you_ can _count," Vegeta retorted._

 _"Number three," Raditz repeated. "Getting the ladies."_

 _Vegeta almost walked away, but despite Raditz being a complete moron, he did have an unusually high success rate with getting girls into bed, and had done since he figured out the differences between males and females a few years ago. Vegeta had always wondered what his secret was._

 _"Since we are friends…" Raditz said, climbing to his feet and brushing sand off his clothes._

 _"Are we?" Vegeta asked with a snort._

 _"I'm going to teach you a few tricks to help you land that girl." Raditz clapped Vegeta on the back. "Because man, you are wound tighter than Frieza on a bad day and I'm sure getting laid will solve all your problems."_

 _"Of all the problems I have, you think that is the most important to solve?" Vegeta shook his head. "I have more important things to think about, like keeping us alive on a daily basis."_

 _"Yeah, yeah." Raditz waved his hand. "I'm aware our lives are complete fucked. But I don't see the point in worrying about what I can't control. That's your job. Now you getting it on with a nice girl… that I can help with."_

 _"Alright, I'll bite," Vegeta said with a sigh. It wasn't as if he had anything better to do at that moment. "What should I do if I hypothetically wanted to, as you do crudely put it, get laid?"_

 _Raditz bared his teeth into a grin. "What's the first thing you do when you get handed a mission."_

 _"Reconnaissance," Vegeta answered immediately._

 _"And the next?"_

 _Vegeta eyed Raditz warily, unsure where he was going with this. "Determine your enemy's weakness and the best method of exploitation."_

 _"And then… wham!" Raditz threw a fake punch, which Vegeta blocked with his hand. Raditz pulled his hand away then waggled his eyebrows. "You attack."_

 _Vegeta folded his arms. "Where are you going with this?"_

 _"Getting a girl is the same." Raditz bent forward in an exaggerated bow. "Allow me to prove my method, your royal highness."_

 _Vegeta smothered a smile, and waved at him to get on with it. Raditz leaned on the table next to Vegeta. More drinks had appeared and Raditz picked one up and had a slow sip, scanning the people surrounding them._

 _"What are you doing?" Vegeta said, bored already. "If I have to spend much longer around these drunken idiots, I'm going to blow this party up. Literally."_

 _"Reconnaissance," Raditz replied. "And Elrik would kill you, then you'd never get in with his sister. Now, check out that one." Raditz nudged Vegeta with his elbow and sloshed the drink in his glass in the direction of the closest bonfire. "Jalakal girl with green hair in the orange getup."_

 _Vegeta spotted the girl, but couldn't see anything special about her. He shrugged and picked up a drink of his own. "What about her?"_

 _"Her friend is slobbering all over that tall blue guy who kind of looks like a weakling version of Zarbon. My extensive experience in loving the ladies tells me that that sideways glance Green Hair keeps giving them is one of jealousy."_

 _"A weakness," Vegeta said, having a sip of his drink. "Alright, I can see that. But how will you exploit it?"_

 _"Compliment her. Maybe throw in a comparison to her friend that implies Green Hair is prettier without actually saying it outright." Raditz put down his glass. "Subtlety is key. Watch and learn."_

 _Raditz sauntered over to the girl and started talking with her. Vegeta laughed and shook his head._

 _"What's so funny?" Kalyana asked, coming up behind him._

 _"Radtiz." Vegeta handed her a drink from the table, which she took, but didn't drink. She tapped the glass with her long nails. "I didn't know you were coming."_

 _"I was hoping to bump into someone," she said casually. She looked in Raditz's direction and frowned. "What is he doing? Wow, is she… yes that is her tongue down his throat."_

 _"Raditz is attempting to show me how to convince a girl to hook up." Vegeta took a sip of his drink, watching Kalyana closely over his glass. "His method is surprisingly effective."_

 _Kalaya snorted. "What is his trick? Toss his long hair around and wait for a girl with hair-envy to find him?"_

 _"He seemed to have quite the battle strategy," Vegeta said. "Observe, evaluate, exploit, attack."_

 _"Interesting." Kalyana took a slow sip of her drink. "And do you think you need his advice?"_

 _Vegeta shrugged. "You tell me."_

 _Kalyana smirked and put her drink back on the table, then slowly leaned forward until her lips brushed his ear. "I think you did just fine the other night," she whispered._

 _Vegeta smirked as Kalyana pulled away and then sauntered off. She glanced at him once over her shoulder, throwing him a smile before disappearing into the crowd. "I should hope so," Vegeta murmured to himself._

* * *

"Trunks is fed and down for his morning nap." Bulma announced as she wandered back into the kitchen.

Vegeta grunted in response. As if he cared a whit what the infant's feeding and sleeping cycle was. They had ended up falling asleep on the couch in the lounge adjoining the kitchen (or rather, Bulma fell asleep and Vegeta dozed lightly, only staying because he had been too comfortable to move) until the baby's piecing cries had Bulma leaping up and dragging her clothing back on.

Sensing that everyone else's kis were low enough to be sleeping, Vegeta had pulled his own clothes back on and decided it was safe to cook without Mrs Briefs appearing and catching on to his skill. Not that it mattered since he was still determined to leave once Cell was defeated.

He served up their breakfast and slid Bulma's plate and coffee cup across the breakfast bar towards her, then began plating his own.

"I'm surprised you didn't try and get one last trainings session in the GR before going off to the chamber," Bulma said, having a sip of her coffee. "Instead you decided to spend your morning with me. I didn't know you could be so romantic."

"You wish, woman," Vegeta said, shaking his head. "I'm just hungry."

"Uh huh," Bulma murmured, shaking salt over her eggs.

Vegeta frowned at he slid his own plate next to hers. "The eggs already have salt. Don't ruin my food."

Bulma ignored him, and started adding pepper as well. "You know, I've been thinking."

"You've decided to start using your brain again?" Vegeta stared at the coffee pot and contemplated pouring himself one to try. It smelt good, but after the tea incident he'd avoided Earthling hot drinks.

Bulma stuck out her tongue at him before continuing. "Maybe because time works differently in the chamber, your symptoms won't come back."

Vegeta decided against the coffee. He sat down next to her then started eating his own breakfast. It wasn't too bad considering he hadn't cooked in months. "With my luck the chamber will make the symptoms worse, not better."

Bulma took a bite of her eggs and moaned. "Kami, Vegeta, I forgot how much I love your cooking. My mother is a brilliant cook, but I swear your eggs are better than hers."

Vegeta looked sideways at Bulma, trying to work out if she was exaggerating. When she took a second bite, closing her eyes in rapture, he tasted his own eggs, then decided to add more salt while she wasn't looking.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, before Bulma started glancing at him with every bite.

Vegeta put his fork down and glared at her. "What?"

"Will you please get out of the chamber if it comes back like last time?"

Vegeta threw her a glare. "I won't leave early."

Bulma reached out and touched his hand. "And what are you going to do if it does come back?"

"I lasted nearly a year last time."

"How long has it been since…"

 _Since he last killed_. Vegeta hesitated. She had to have known what he'd get up to in space, so why did he feel uncomfortable admitting that he'd slayed more of Frieza's supporters? "A few months," he muttered, staring at the hand lying on top of his. "I'll be fine. I need to train, and the chamber is my best chance at-"

"Mom?"

Vegeta yanked his hand out from under Bulma's and cursed inwardly as he felt teenage Trunks' ki in the doorway. He glanced up and met Trunks' gaze. The boy kept looking from Bulma to him with an expression of confusion on his face.

Vegeta contemplated making a quick escape, but he still had food on his plate. In the end, he sat on his stool, shovelling in food but ready to leap up at a moment's notice.

"Trunks!" Bulma's mouth widened into a smile. "Come join us for breakfast. There's-"

"Cereal in the cupboard," Vegeta said, glaring at Bulma. As if he was going to share his food with the brat!

Bulma's eyes narrowed, but she didn't argue. She took a long sip of her coffee instead.

"Cereal is fine," Trunks said awkwardly.

When Trunks sat down on the other side of Bulma, Vegeta ate his last bite then stood up. "I'll meet you there," he said to the boy. He glanced at Bulma. "See you tomorrow."

"What! Where are my flowers?" Bulma asked, placing her hand over her heart. "My long goodbye speech?"

"I'll see you tomorrow," he repeated with a sigh.

"It's a year for you!" Bulma said to his retreating back.

Vegeta turned his head to look back at her and smirked. "A whole year without your complaining. I can't wait."

Bulma stuck her middle finger in the air.

Vegeta couldn't remember exactly what it meant but knew it was a human gesture that was some kind of insult.

"Don't kill our son," Bulma said casually, but Vegeta recognised the undertone of a threat.

Vegeta glanced at Trunks and smirked. "No promises."

* * *

Trunks watched his father leave the room. Since he had met him, Vegeta had seemed more like an indomitable mountain than an actual person. He might have been small in stature, but the Saiyan carried himself like a man three times his size. His solid frame was always tense, his back always straight, and gaze ever watchful.

But, when Trunks had walked in on Vegeta and Bulma eating breakfast together, his father had been caught off guard by Trunks' appearance. The man had even seemed relaxed, even though he wore his usual scowl and appeared to be arguing yet again with Bulma.

"Is this what you two do?" Trunks asked his young mother when he was sure Vegeta was out of earshot.

Bulma cocked her head with a puzzled expression.

"You and him… your only way of communicating is to argue," Trunks said.

Bulma glanced at the door Vegeta had disappeared through and giggled. "Oh, we communicate in _lots_ of ways."

Trunks paled when he realised what his mother meant, and gagged on his cereal.

"Sorry!" Bulma laughed and passed her plate, which was still piled with food, over to Trunks. "Here, take mine. You need to eat before committing yourself to a year with that man."

Trunks accepted it gratefully. Cereal was not a suitable breakfast for a Saiyan - even a half one.

"It's hard to remember you are my son, sometimes," Bulma said. "And I'm still young you know. How do you think you came along?"

"So gross." Trunks shuddered, then started eating some eggs and toast off Bulma's plate. They were surprisingly good. He didn't know his mother could cook well. The food in his time was all bland and dried, since food was hard to come by.

"So, uh… what happened 'last time'?" He asked in an attempt to turn the subject away from the horrifying idea of his mother doing _that_ with Vegeta. "What would he need to leave the chamber early?"

"You heard that, huh?" Bulma took a sip of her coffee. She put the mug on the table and curled her hands around it, then looked up at Trunks. "It's not my place to tell you the details, but Trunks… please look out for your father. If the headaches start again, I know he won't leave, but force him to take the pills I gave him."

Trunks straightened in surprise. "Is he sick?"

"Not exactly…" Bulma sighed. "But if he stops acting like himself, keep a close eye on him."

"How am I supposed to know if he's acting like himself?" Trunks asked. "I don't know him at all, and he ignores me most of the time."

Bulma grinned. "He can't ignore you forever. Keep trying. You have a year."

A year. Trunks groaned inwardly at the thought. A year with only Vegeta, the most uncommunicative person he'd met, for company. He was more likely to go mad than build any kind of relationship with his father. And at this point he wasn't sure he even _wanted_ to get to know the man.

Trunks looked at his mother. She seemed to be able to get him to talk, even if it was mostly yelling at one another. "How long did it take you before you felt like you knew him?" He asked.

Bulma waved her hand airily. "I don't think anyone can ever really _know_ Vegeta. It took me months to really break down enough barriers to have a civil conversation. Maybe longer." She grinned across the table at Trunks. "And as you can see, civil conversation is still a rarity for us."

Trunks' heart sank even further. If it took his bright, vivacious mother _months_ to get Vegeta to open up, he was screwed.

"It will be fun, getting to know your father!" Bulma said brightly.

Trunks raised his eyebrows, holding back a snort. "Yes. Fun."

* * *

"Hey Vegeta!" Kakarot waved enthusiastically as Vegeta touched down at the lookout.

"What are you doing here?" Vegeta snapped.

"I wanted to see you and Trunks off. Man, I am so excited - I can't wait for my turn!" Kakarot hopped from one foot to the other like an idiot.

"I go first." Vegeta narrowed his eyes at the other Saiyan.

"Of course!" Kakarot scratched the back of his head and laughed.

The sound made Vegeta wince. Kakarot sounded so much like his brother when he did that. He and Raditz were physically quite different from each other, but sometimes the way Kakarot gestured, and how he sounded when excited felt like a kick in the gut to Vegeta. He was so much like Raditz used to be, back when the two of them were only a little older than Trunks… before Vegeta's cruelty twisted Raditz beyond recognition.

"Where's Trunks?" Kakarot asked, glancing around the lookout.

Vegeta shrugged. "How would I know? I'm not his keeper."

"You are his father." Kakarot laughed, and then cleared his throat at Vegeta's glare. "Well, you are!"

The intonation in the other Saiyan's voice made Vegeta clench his fists. He had to forcibly prevent himself from flying forward and attacking. All he could hear was Raditz's voice over the scouter comms, asking for help. _You killed him_ , he wanted to scream at Kakarot, even though he knew it was the Namekian who had dealt the killing blast, and that if it was anyone's fault that Raditz died, it was Vegeta's.

Vegeta felt Trunks' ki approach, and started walking towards the chamber. He glanced at Trunks as the boy caught up. "I won't go easy on you," he warned. "Last chance to back out."

Trunks jutted his jaw out defiantly. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

Vegeta smothered the smile threatening to appear on his face. _No attachment_ s, he reminded himself, even though he'd gone way beyond that line with Bulma already. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"See you tomorrow!" Kakarot shouted out.

Vegeta responded with the rude gesture Bulma had given him, then entered the chamber, sensing Trunks' nervously buzzing ki following close behind.


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

 _"This ship is incredible," Kalyana said, her face tilted up to the high roof adorned with silver panelling and bright lights that made the hallway shimmer._

 _Vegeta grunted in response, and tugged her around a corner, hearing Zarbon's voice coming from the opposite direction. He was the last person Vegeta wanted to bump into, especially with Kalyana in tow. "You really shouldn't be here," Vegeta grumbled. "I can't believe you talked me into this."_

 _"I've always wanted to see the base." Kalyana grinned and looped her arm through Vegeta's. "Can you get me into the control room?"_

 _Vegeta glanced around to check if anyone else was around before lowering his voice to a furious whisper. "I'm not helping you with any of that resistance crap. I like my organs inside my body, thank you."_

 _Nappa had told him after they left Jalak that he'd seen Kalyana talking to known members of the resistance at the beach party. When Kalyana had made that comment about hoping to bump into someone, Vegeta had assumed she meant him. But when he'd asked her about the resistance, Kalyana didn't deny her involvement. She asked him to help. Vegeta had refused, but when she asked to come to Frieza's base, he'd relented in the hope that she wanted to come for another reason._

 _Kalyana pouted at him. "Can I at least see your quarters?"_

 _Vegeta gave her a sideways look, assessing her. "That can be arranged."_

 _He knew Kalyana's motives for sleeping with him were not only because she liked him. The problem was, Vegeta hadn't decided if he cared or not. She was brave (braver than him if she was passing intel to the resistance), refreshingly honest, and he'd started to feel a little less alone in the universe._

 _Vegeta led Kalyana down a few more corners, then opened a door by holding up the band on his wrist to the scanner. The door opened with a swish, revealing what would have been a large room for one person, but with three beds looked cramped. Nappa and Raditz looked up in surprise as Vegeta walked in with Kalyana._

 _"Scram," Vegeta told them._

 _Raditz grinned and slapped him on the back before leaving, but Nappa stayed where he was, sitting on the end of a bed that bowed under his weight._

 _"Have you lost your mind?" Nappa asked._

 _Vegeta crossed him arms and remained silent._

 _Nappa stood up, towering over Vegeta and crossed his arms as well._

 _Vegeta glared at him. "I said, get out."_

 _Nappa glanced at Kalyana. "It is my job to keep you alive. That girl is dangerous."_

 _"You think I'm going to kill Vegeta in his sleep?" Kalyana asked with a laugh._

 _"I found out on Jalak what you're mixed up in. Your brother might not care, but I won't have you dragging Vegeta into it."_

 _"I'm right here," Vegeta snapped. "And I can decide for myself what I get into. Now get out before I make you leave."_

 _Nappa threw Kalyana a furious look before stomping out. When the door slid shut behind him, Vegeta let out a sigh._

 _"Don't worry about it," Kalyana said, wrapping her arms around his waist. "He'll warm up to me eventually."_

 _"Doesn't matter either way," Vegeta said. "He won't do anything."_

* * *

Every day was the same and it was driving Trunks _insane_.

Each morning, Vegeta woke up Trunks, giving him ten minutes to get dressed and eat something, before beating the crap out of him until lunch. Vegeta then cooked something the smelt incredible (Trunks had realised that the breakfast he'd walked in on his parents eating must have been cooked by Vegeta, not Bulma).

Of course, Vegeta never shared his food. No, Trunks was left to cook for himself, no matter how much he begged Vegeta to let him try some.

After lunch, Vegeta disappeared, and didn't return until the next morning, leaving Trunks to train by himself. Trunks didn't know if his father slept - the few times he'd dared peek in Vegeta's sleeping quarters, the place was so tidy and barren that it didn't look like anyone had ever been there. The only indication that Vegeta ate anything other than lunch was the slowly depleting food in the cupboards, so Trunks had to assume he ate his other meals while Trunks was asleep.

The night prior, Trunks had decided to start sleeping in his training gear to save time. This time, when Vegeta shook him awake that morning, the man actually _smiled_.

"Good," Vegeta said with a nod. "If the enemy comes in the middle of the night, you won't have time to get dressed."

"The only enemy here is you," Trunks groaned.

Vegeta left his room with a low chuckle.

Realising he'd better make the most of his extra time and eat something, Trunks scrambled out of bed and made his way to the kitchen.

"What did Saiyans have for breakfast?" Trunks asked Vegeta as he buttered some toast. He knew he wouldn't get a response, but made sure to ask Vegeta several questions a day, just to get amusement out of seeing his father tense up. "Did they eat three meals a day? Do you?" Trunks took a bite of his toast. "I never see you eat breakfast."

"Don't talk with your mouth full!" Vegeta snapped. "Time's up, let's go."

"Yes _father_ ," Trunks said with a smirk, before shovelling in more toast.

Vegeta growled and sent a perfectly aimed ki blast at the remaining piece of toast on Trunks' plate, disintegrating it.

* * *

Trunks wasn't sure he could call what they did training. Really, it was an all-out brawl, with both Saiyans taking out their anger and frustration on each other. He could feel it in each and every one of Vegeta's punches as they parried in the air. The force behind the smaller man was incredible, and pure fury rolled off him with every strike.

"You're holding back!" Vegeta yelled as he kicked Trunks to the ground, then blasted a beam of ki at him.

Trunks rolled to the side, narrowly escaping the blast. "I'm not!" He fired back at Vegeta, who dodged it easily.

"You are. No wonder the androids have destroyed your world. I could have done better when I was five!" Vegeta flew directly at him, twisting at the last minute to deliver a sharp thrust to Trunks' side, making his ribs crack.

Trunks hit the ground with a gasp. There was no chance that Vegeta was holding back. That hit would take ages to heal properly.

Vegeta landed in front of him with a sneer. "Kakarot's boy must have been so disappointed to have been stuck with a worthless kid like you to defend the planet."

Trunks flushed in anger at the verbal jab. He climbed to his feet, clutching his side. "You don't know anything about me!"

"I know enough to imagine how your mother feels," Vegeta said with a snarl. "She sent you here as a last hope because she knew you would _never_ be strong enough to defeat those hunks of metal by yourself."

Trunks screamed and rushed at him. Taking a trick out of Vegeta's book, Trunks dodged left at the last moment and sent an undercut towards his father. To his immense surprise, the blow connected, and Vegeta stumbled backwards.

Seeing his advantage, Trunks leapt forward and kicked his father, then drew the last of his energy into a blast and sent it towards Vegeta.

The blast exploded in a flash of light. Trunks stood still, surveying the damage as the cloud of dust cleared. Vegeta was in his knees on the ground, head bowed breathing heavily. His training gear had been cut up, and the ground around him was scorched. As Vegeta slowly got to his feet, holding his right wrist to his chest, Trunks took a step back, realising that he'd actually hurt him. Not only that, but he was fairly sure the power level he'd just achieved was higher than Vegeta's as well.

The man was going to kill him.

Vegeta stared at Trunks, no expression on his face.

"I… uh…" Trunks took another step back.

Vegeta looked at the ground around him, and shoulders started shaking. It wasn't until the man looked back up, that Trunks realised he was _laughing_.

"I was beginning to doubt you had it in you." He looked at his wrist. "I think it's dislocated." Vegeta wriggled it and produced a loud popping sound. He winced and started rubbing his it. "That's going to be stiff for a while."

"You're not angry?" Trunks asked.

Vegeta looked puzzled for a moment. "What about? You mean because of your power level?" He waved his uninjured hand. "A higher power level doesn't mean anything without strategy and technique. I'll surpass you again, but until then I'll still beat you, because a boulder rolling down a hill has more strategy than you."

With that, Vegeta wandered off into the deeper part of the chamber, disappearing into the dense mist and leaving Trunks to assume their training session was over for the day.

* * *

 _Vegeta felt a hand on his wrist, and opened his eyes drowsily. "What are you doing?" He asked, even as Kalyana made it perfectly obvious as she slipped the band over his hand._

 _"What you can't." Kalyana put the band into her own wrist. "I get it, you are playing the long game, waiting to take him down in one sweep. I don't have the luxury of waiting for him to kill my brother and destroy my planet. I actually have something to lose."_

 _"You'll lose your life," Vegeta said. He didn't take the band back, even though they both knew he could have she wouldn't have been able to stop him._

 _"Neither of us are afraid of dying," she replied, standing up and pulling her shirt back on. "We are afraid of dying without vengeance. I will get mine, or die trying."_

 _"If you get caught, you won't be the only one at risk." Vegeta rolled onto his side and pulled the thin blanket back over him. "So you'd better make the most of it."_

 _Kalyana grinned at him. "See you soon or not at all."_

* * *

Trunks rolled over in bed, unable to get comfortable. He'd caught a couple of hours' sleep, but his mind kept buzzing with images of the morning. He'd been so sure Vegeta was going to be furious when he reached that power level. Vegeta laughing had thrown him off balance and left him feeling unsure about where he stood with the man.

Deciding that he wasn't going to get much sleep just lying there, Trunks clambered stiffly out of bed, favouring his sore ribs. He made his way to the communal living area, with a yawn. He blearily rubbed his eyes as he entered, and didn't spot Vegeta until he was already in the room.

The Saiyan sat at the table, a bowl of soup and a plate of bread beside him, and neatly arranged pieces of paper in front of him, with three yellow and black pencils lined up beside them. He managed to balance dipping his bread into the soup and eating it with his left hand, while scrawling notes on the paper with his right, all without spilling a crumb. He moved quickly and efficiently, as if either the food or the paper could be snatched away from him at any moment.

In between mouthfuls, Vegeta muttered to himself in an odd guttural language. He didn't look up at Trunks once, or give any indication that he'd even noticed him. Trunks sighed and made his way to the coffee machine. He'd hoped after today maybe _something_ would change between then.

Trunks poured himself a cup. After having a sip, he almost decided to leave his father to himself. But then he remembered his mother's words telling him to keep trying with Vegeta, so he sat down on another corner of the table and watched his father's deft movements.

" _Glashkeria feiraka da a kree_?" Vegeta lifted his head and spoke sharply, raising his tone of voice at the end as if in a question, but Trunks didn't understand what he'd said.

"What?" Trunks asked, glancing around the room rapidly in case this was some kind of weird training exercise.

Vegeta shook his head. "Hmm. I must be tired. I speak too many languages. Sometimes the right one…" Vegeta waved the hand with the pencil in it with a frown. "Eludes me."

He glanced back down at his paper and began writing again. "I hadn't spoken this Earthling language in over a year until a few weeks before we came in here."

"Well… uh… what did you say?"

Vegeta looked back up. "I don't know if there is a clear translation. Something like…" He tapped his pencil on the table and looked over Trunks's shoulder, as if deep in thought. "…stop staring at me, or would you like me to rip your spinal cord out of your body and wear it as a scarf?"

"Huh." Trunks took a sip of his coffee and watched Vegeta closely. The man's expression gave nothing away. "Is that supposed to be funnier in the other language?"

Vegeta let out a dark chuckle and went back to studying his papers. "Boy, you have no idea what the rest of the universe finds funny."

After sitting in silence for a long minute, Trunks ached to fill it. "How many languages do you know?" he asked. As Vegeta pulled back from his notes with a sigh, Trunks noticed there were diagrams and what looked like mathematical equations on the paper as well. "And what are you working on?"

Vegeta dunked his bread into the soup, then tore into it with his teeth. "You get one," he said, continuing to write his cramped notes in another language at the same time.

"One what?" Trunks leaned forward in his chair.

Vegeta glanced up at him with a glare. "One question."

"One question," Trunks repeated.

"Are you deaf? Yes, one question."

Trunks' heart started pumping harder. "I can ask _anything_? And you'll answer truthfully?" He searched his father's body language for any sign that he was lying.

Vegeta clicked his tongue in annoyance. "I'm many things, but not a pathological liar. I won't create falsehoods, or… what did the woman call it? I won't coat it in sugar."

Trunks blinked, trying to decipher his words. "You mean sugarcoat it?"

Vegeta shrugged. "Whatever. Just make sure you are prepared for any answer to what you ask, because the truth is not always what you want to hear."

Trunks opened his mouth, but couldn't find the words. Only one question? He had thousands of things he wanted to know about his father. "How did you and my mother get together?" He asked finally.

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Really? You are going to waste your question on that? Ask your mother."

"She wouldn't tell me."

"Which one?" Vegeta asked, going back to his notes.

Trunks frowned. "Uh… which what?"

Vegeta let out a huff of exasperation. "Which mother! How did we create an idiot like you? Clearly you get your brains from your grandmother's side of the family."

"You're a real asshole, you know that?" Trunks stood up angrily, his chair scraping on the tiles loudly.

"I am aware." Vegeta's pencil broke and he threw it across the room and picked up another. "It must be your mother's favourite quality of mine, because she always goes on about it." He looked up at Trunks with a sigh. "Sit down, boy. It's bad enough that you're taller than me. Stop the looming - it's making me want to punch you in the face."

Trunks eyed his father carefully. Was he making a joke? Vegeta's face didn't give anything away and his eyes were terrifying black holes. Trunks sat back down, slowly. "My time's mother," he finally replied.

"Well then, the answer is how would I know?" Vegeta started chewing it on more bread.

"That is not an answer."

Vegeta shrugged. "I didn't get together with your mother. I wasn't there. I don't know how your parents got together. I don't know why I even stayed on Earth in your timeline."

"That is not what I'm asking, and you know it!" Trunks slammed his hands on the table, making some of Vegeta's soup slosh out of the bowl.

Vegeta's mouth curled up at the side. "I see you are as easy to aggravate as Bulma."

Trunks let out the air in his lungs and closed his eyes. When he opened them he simply looked at his father expectantly.

"Mathematics," Vegeta said. Then he went back to scribbling notes.

Trunks grit his teeth. He was beginning to think that his father was the single most infuriating person he'd met. The androids would have been more forthcoming. "Care to elaborate?" Trunks asked.

Vegeta grunted. "I solved a mathematics equation that no one else on this stupid planet had solved to help your mother improve the gravity room."

If Trunks hadn't seen his father bent over complex equations right at this moment, he wouldn't have believed it. He supposed the man would have had a basic grasp of physics to fly around in space his entire life, but to solve a math problem his mother couldn't… no wonder his mother fell for him. That would have been better than chocolates or flowers for her. "Then what?" he asked when Vegeta didn't continue.

"Really?" Vegeta muttered something in what sounded like a different, more lyrical alien language. "I don't know. We started talking instead of arguing. We solved math problems and watched zombie movies and ate food. It just… happened."

"That sounds…" Trunks frowned at the table. "Exceptionally ordinary. And kind of geeky."

Vegeta scowled and lifted his head from his paper to look at Trunks. "What were you expecting? A sordid tale of how an evil alien took advantage of an innocent woman?"

"Well maybe, I mean no, but… you… _dated_ my mother?"

"We didn't leave the house," Vegeta said. "Except for that one time with the guns. And then the restaurant. But that was before we were sleep-"

Trunks flew forward and slammed his hand over Vegeta's mouth. "I take it back - I don't want to know!"

Vegeta's eyes widened, and before Trunks realised that he still had his hand covering his father's mouth, Vegeta had grabbed his wrist, wrenched him off his chair and thrown him on the floor.

Trunks tried to sit up but Vegeta slammed his foot down on his chest. Vegeta's breaths came fast, and his clenched fists shook. Despite having faced him in combat many times, Trunks had never felt scared for his life. Until now. There was something wild in his eyes that he'd never seen before. It reminded him of the look people on his planet got when confronted by the androids.

"Unless we are training, do not ever touch me." Vegeta pressed his foot down harder, making Trunks gasp and his already sore ribs ache even more. "Understand?"

Unable to talk, Trunks just nodded.

Vegeta stepped off Trunks then walked away, muttering just loud enough for Trunks to hear. "Of all the colours in the damn universe, why the fuck did my son have to be _purple_."

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading so far, and a special shout out to anyone reviewing! Let me know what you think of Trunks and Vegeta's interactions if you can. I'm trying to be realistic about how they would have been when they didn't really know (or like) each other.**


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.** **Apologies for the longer than usual delay in getting this chapter up! It's quite a bit longer than usual. Thanks to everyone for your comments about writing Trunks and Vegeta's relationship. I've tried to do it justice!**

* * *

 _"You're going to get us all killed," Nappa placed a hand on Vegeta's shoulder and hissed in his ear as they marched towards the pod docking station. "That girl has made you forget your purpose."_

 _Vegeta shook Nappa off with a scowl. "I haven't forgotten. How many times have I nearly killed myself to increase my power level? If she and the resistance want to weaken Frieza on other fronts it only increases our advantage."_

 _"You need to think, Vegeta," Nappa growled. "There is no advantage if we are all dead!"_

 _Vegeta rolled his eyes and turned down towards the platform Kalyana had docked on. "Stop worrying, Nappa. I know what I'm doing."_

* * *

"Stop worrying about how hard you're hitting, and _think_ , for once!" Vegeta yelled at the purple haired boy.

Vegeta wasn't sure what irritated him more - that after over a month the boy's power level still hovered just above his own, or the fact that Trunks didn't seem to grasp how a high power level wouldn't help him in the slightest if he didn't improve his technique.

Vegeta had attempted to demonstrate to Trunks how important technique was by exploiting every one of the boy's weaknesses whenever he got the chance, but the idiot kept battling on with the same types of attacks.

"You are consistently leaving your left side exposed," he said as he deflected a ki blast with one of his own. He got the angle perfect, and his blast ricocheted off the tiled surface of the chamber and straight into Trunks.

The boy attempted to block it, but it knocked him back a few feet, giving Vegeta the chance to blast him again and send Trunks tumbling to the ground.

"It doesn't matter how powerful you are if you can't land anything," Vegeta said with a smirk.

"I know what I'm doing!" Trunks yelled as he climbed back to his feet. The boy launched upwards and swept in with a powerful blow. Vegeta dodged it easily, using the boy's momentum against him to throw him off balance and kick him in his exposed left side.

Trunks fell back to the ground, wheezing.

"Your technique is appalling." Vegeta landed on the tiles in front of Trunks and started circling him. "Anyone can see you've been trained by an amateur."

"Gohan was not an amateur," Trunks said, his face turning bright red.

Vegeta rolled his eyes skyward. "I'm not trying to insult you, or your 'mentor'. I'm telling you what you should already know. Kakarot died when Gohan was young in your time, so Gohan had no one else to train him. Of course his technique ended up rough around the edges. And he's passed bad habits on to you."

"Then teach me!" Trunks stood up, clenching his fists. "You just hit me and point out everything I'm doing wrong, but you don't tell me how to do it right."

Vegeta looked Trunks up and down. "I don't think I can. Your habits are too embedded, and the kind of routine it would require… you barely get out of bed in the morning as it is. You don't have the stamina."

"Anything you can do, I can do," Trunks said through gritted teeth.

Vegeta smirked. It could be interesting to push Trunks beyond his limits. The boy could certainly do with less coddling. And if the boy somehow lasted and actually improved, he might actually make a worthwhile sparring partner. "Fine," he barked. "I'll give you one day. If you can keep up with me, I'll train you."

"Really?" Trunks' eyes lit up.

Vegeta sighed. The boy was as easy to please as he was to make angry. "Four a.m. tomorrow. Don't be late."

* * *

 _Vegeta sat at the Jalakal palace dinner table, extremely conscious of his own subpar table manners. He'd had them drilled into him as a child, but after so many years with more important things to worry about, he was shocked to realise he had no idea what polite eating meant any more. He watched the others carefully, and avoided King Derilan's steely gaze._

 _"What are your intentions with my daughter?" the king asked suddenly._

 _Vegeta coughed, choking on the mouthful he'd just started to swallow._

 _"Daddy!" Kalyana put down her fork and stared at the king in horror. "What kind of question is that?"_

 _"It's hardly dinner conversation,_ _dear," Queen_ _Hurandra said before taking a dainty bite of food._

 _Elrik, the traitor, just laughed silently, his shoulders shaking._

 _"Well?" King Derilan demanded. "Answer me, boy.'_

 _"I…" Vegeta opened and shut his mouth. "I didn't realise I needed intentions?" he finally managed to splutter out._

 _The king growled and leaned forward. "You don't intend to marry my daughter, kill her brother and take my crown?"_

 _Vegeta's eyes grew wide. Was the king joking? He looked deadly serious, but Elrik had started laughing even harder, going bright red from the effort of not doing so loudly. Deciding to err on the side of caution and take him seriously, Vegeta thought hard about his answer. "If that is my intention, you shouldn't need to worry," he said. "Statistically speaking, I'll likely be dead soon."_

 _"What is that supposed to mean?" The king asked, slamming his fist on the table._

 _Kalyana put her head in her hands. "This is humiliating. Daddy, please stop."_

 _The king glared at Kalyana, then raised his eyebrows at Vegeta, indicating that he should continue._

 _Vegeta had a drink of the wine before speaking again. "I'm already eighteen percent over my life expectancy based on my years of service and position," he explained. "If my intention is to set up an elaborate plot to steal your crown, I'll end up dead, because I haven't survived this long by getting distracted with other planets' politics. And if my intentions are merely to enjoy this dinner, then you still shouldn't worry, because the highest outlier is twenty five percent and I'll end up dead soon anyway."_

 _"Goodness," said Queen Hurandra. "All this talk of death at dinner has me feeling like something a little more pleasant. Would anyone else like dessert?"_

* * *

Trunks stood outside the living quarters at five minutes to four in the morning, yawning, but also bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation. He'd hardly slept the night before, having kept himself up imagining what his mysterious father did every day to make him such an incredible warrior.

Trunks knew Vegeta was right when he'd told him his power level didn't matter if he didn't know how to use it - he'd proved that point repeatedly by defeating him every morning during their sparring sessions. Trunks was desperate to learn how to use his power properly - not only so he could help defeat Cell, but so that when he returned to his time he could be confident in defeating the androids as well.

At exactly four o'clock, Vegeta walked out wearing a simple training suit and looking far more awake than Trunks felt. If he was surprised to see that Trunks had turned up on time, he didn't show it. In fact, Vegeta completely ignored him.

The man sat down, cross-legged on the white tiles, hands on his knees, and closed his eyes. He remained perfectly still - the only sign he wasn't a statue was the slight rise and fall of his chest.

Trunks stood there awkwardly for a moment, wondering if Vegeta had forgotten his promise, but then Trunks realised Vegeta hadn't said he would train him today, just that Trunks could see what he did and attempt to keep up.

So, Trunks sat down next to Vegeta and assumed the same position. He tried to stay as still as Vegeta, but the sound of his own breathing started to irritate him, and then his foot got itchy. Trunks reached out slowly to scratch it, and cracked an eye open to look at his father.

What was he doing? He seemed to just be sitting there. How was that going to help him get stronger?

Trunks frowned as he began to focus on Vegeta's ki. He began to realise that Vegeta was altering his ki level with each intake of breath. He started by keeping his ki at a very low level, bringing it up a notch with each breath, and then ten breaths later, bringing it back down again at the same rate. The changes in his ki were so minor Trunks wouldn't have noticed if that wasn't all he was concentrating on.

Trunks shuffled on the hard tiles to get comfortable, then attempted to do the same. He couldn't manage to get the same subtle elevation in ki as his father. Trunks' ki jumped up at a higher rate, and he struggled to make it the same power jump each time, instead fluctuating his ki wildly. Trunks scowled in frustration. The exercise Vegeta was doing so effortlessly was much harder that it seemed.

Trunks tried again. This time he managed to keep his ki jumps going up at the same rate, although he was much more unsteady as he lowered his ki, and he couldn't get the increments as small as Vegeta's.

Trunks kept trying, getting steadier each time, but only managing to get his increments a little smaller. He didn't know how long he'd been at it, but when he felt a shadow fall over him, he opened his eyes.

Vegeta stood in front of him, arms folded. He might have been frowning, but it was hard for Trunks to tell since his father always had resting irritated face.

Vegeta gave him and almost imperceptible nod, then started to walk further into the eerie mist. Trunks, assuming the nod was Vegeta's way of telling him he hadn't done too awful a job, followed him in.

Vegeta didn't go far. If Trunks squinted slightly he could see the outline of the living quarters. Trunks tensed, wondering what insane battle training Vegeta would start on, but the Saiyan set his feet apart, took a deep breath, then started moving with slow steps and arm movements that resembled a choreographed dance.

 _Katas_ , Trunks realised. Gohan had taught him some when he was young, but when Trunks grew older the only training they did was to spar.

Trunks stood, watching his father for a while. Again, Vegeta ignored Trunks, his face rigid in concentration and a complete contrast to the graceful, fluid movements of his body. Trunks began to realise that some of the movements were slowed down versions of techniques Vegeta had used when sparring.

There was a pattern to his movements. Vegeta completed a sequence of movements then repeated it five times before moving onto a new kata. When Vegeta his next kata, Trunks watched each movement carefully, then attempted to copy it. By the Vegeta's fifth cycle, Trunks had barely gotten the hang of it, and Vegeta moved on to the next one, this time moving a little faster. Frustrated but determined, Trunks started the process again as well, watching Vegeta's formations before attempting to copy.

Each kata included faster and more complex movements, when Vegeta finally stopped Trunks felt far more tired than he'd expected considering no blows had been exchanged.

Vegeta didn't look tired at all. He gave Trunks a quick, assessing glance before walking back to the quarters at a leisurely pace. He went straight to the kitchen and pulled out a fry pan and eggs. Trunks stood off to the side, unsure what to do. Should he cook himself some breakfast? He normally grabbed some toast and a piece of fruit because he didn't have time in the morning, but Vegeta didn't seem to be in a rush.

Trunks started to reach for the fridge door, but Vegeta stopped him by putting a hand on the door. He narrowed his eyes at Trunks.

"Sit," Vegeta said, taking his hand off the fridge to point to the table.

Trunks opened his mouth to ask what he was meant to eat if he wasn't allowed in the kitchen, but at Vegeta's glare, shut his mouth and did as he was told.

He sat down at the small dining table and watched Vegeta make breakfast. The man cooked like he did everything else - with extreme efficiency, but also with an elegance that didn't match his demeaner. Vegeta loved cooking, Trunks realised. His shoulders were relaxed, his face lacked the usual crinkle between his eyebrows, and he no longer radiated his usual unsociable aura.

Vegeta took out two plates and put eggs and toast on both. When he handed Trunks his plate, he glared at him. "This will not be a regular occurrence."

Trunks nodded silently, too afraid to speak in case his father changed his mind and too the food back. It smelt incredible and after the activities of the morning, Trunks was starving.

Once Vegeta started eating, Trunks took a tentative bite of his food. "Kami," he said, forgetting about his idea of not talking. He took another bite to be sure. "How did you get these to taste like this?"

Vegeta looked taken aback. He glanced back down at his own plate, then at Trunks'. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing!" Trunks said quickly. "I didn't know scrambled eggs could taste so good. I'm no expert - food in my time is usually dried and all tastes the same - but this is… did you wish on the dragon balls to have everything you cook taste like it was made in a five-star restaurant?"

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Flattery won't work on me. You cook your own food tomorrow. Now shut up and eat before it goes cold."

Trunks smothered a grin, then kept eating. They really did taste amazing. He didn't know what he was going to have to do to convince his father to cook for him again, but he would do whatever it took if this is what all his meals were like.

After breakfast Trunks and Vegeta did their usual sparring session. Like every other day, Vegeta picked apart his every move without words, but by physically taking advantage of any unguarded part of him. By the end of that session, Trunks' legs felt like jelly, he was covered in bruises and sweating through every pore, and his stomach cried out for food.

Vegeta didn't head back towards the living quarters though. Instead he led Trunks further away, where the air become dense and hard to breathe in. Closer to the quarters, everything echoed, but out here any sounds seemed to be muffled by the mist.

When Vegeta finally stopped, Trunks sank to the ground, breathing heavily. He watched as Vegeta sent a ki blast into the air, then flew quickly to the left and sent another one up. The two blasts collided, the first bouncing off the second. Vegeta took to the air and stopped in the path of the oncoming beam. He sent out another blast at the last moment, the ki exploded around him, the sound still deafening despite being dulled by the mist. When the ki glow faded, Vegeta created a box with his fingers, and looked through it in a few different directions, as if he was framing up the area in front of him for a photograph. He repeated the process, trying different angles for deflecting ki around the chamber.

Trunks clambered to his feet stiffly, and shook out his limbs. Deciding that it was better to get some distance from his father in case he sent a ki blast in the wrong direction, Trunks picked a spot further away and tried it out himself.

As he'd seen his father do, he sent a beam of ki into the air, then flew to another position and fired another blast towards the original ki beam. As with his father's the ki ricocheted in another direction. Trunks then flew to catch the rebounded ki head on, but instead of stopping it with another blast, Trunks missed, and the blast hit him dead on. It knocked him back hard and he plummeted to the ground, hitting the tiles with a thud. Trunks lay there for a moment, feeling woozy. When he managed to climb to his feet, he decided to go back to Vegeta to see if he could get any more clues about how to do it without killing himself.

Vegeta stood still, head bent and eyes closed. When he opened his eyes, he started a similar sequence to what Trunks had just seen, with ki blasts being used to change the angle of the first. This time though, when Vegeta stopped the original blast, he kept going, sending more and more beams of ki into the air.

He moved with precision between the ki in an intricate dance, not once letting the ki get close enough to ruffle his hair. As Trunks watched, he realised that Vegeta used some of the katas in the routine he'd seen earlier that morning to move around the chamber. Each step looked instinctual, each blast appeared random, but Trunks began to realise that Vegeta had everything mapped out to exact degrees.

Trunks was so taken in by the pure beauty of the ki light show, that he didn't notice that Vegeta had turned all the beams of ki in the same direction - straight onto himself. Trunks gasped as the ki surrounded Vegeta and honed in on him at a rapid rate. Vegeta stayed where he was, standing on the tiled floor, swathed in the white and purple light. At the last second, Vegeta dropped to his knees, and surrounded himself in purple ki.

"Father!" Trunks cried out as the man disappeared in a blinding flash, but his shout was lost in the cacophonous explosion.

Trunks stood frozen, staring at the fading light. When it cleared, Vegeta knelt where he had been before, breathing heavily. Trunks ran over, studying his father, but the man seemed unharmed.

"Do you have a death wish?" Trunks asked, running his hand through his hair. "That was… crazy. If you'd got anything wrong you'd be dead now."

Vegeta scowled at him and climbed to his feet. "If I made a mistake during a child's play exercise like that, I'd deserve the death that came with it."

"Child's play?" Trunks took a step back. "What kind of parents would let their kid play with ki like that?"

Vegeta threw Trunks a sharp look. "Dead ones."

* * *

They returned to the living quarters briefly. Vegeta opened the fridge and pulled out premade sandwich sandwiches and set them on the table. "Fifteen minutes," he barked at Trunks, before proceeding to begin devouring the sandwiches. When Trunks hesitated, Vegeta rolled his eyes and nudged the plate slightly closer to him. At that invitation, Trunks sat down and ate as well, once again surprised at how his father made something as simple as a chicken and cheese sandwich taste so good.

With ten minutes left of their allocated fifteen, Vegeta disappeared into his room. Deciding that there was no way Vegeta would leave food unattended if he wanted the rest, Trunks polished it off with gusto.

Vegeta reappeared with a small bag and took off in the air towards the outreaches of the chamber, without giving Trunks any warning. Trunks scrambled to keep up. The further out the got, the denser the air. Trunks had never been this far in before, and the oppressive weight of the air accompanied with the higher gravity that his body had only just gotten used to left him feeling lethargic.

Trunks breathed a sigh of relief when his father finally touched down. Vegeta started his next exercise without speaking once again - he really took this man of few words thing to a new level. First, he pulled out a piece of cloth and some headphones attached to a small music player.

He put the headphones in his ear and seemed to turn on some music. Trunks could only make out muffled sounds that appeared include heavy guitaring and drumming. Vegeta then took the piece of cloth and tied it around his eyes.

When Vegeta started a similar routine to the light show he'd created earlier, Trunks realised with growing horror that his father really didn't have any regard for his own life. This time the ki blasts were random, some rebounding off others, some not, and Vegeta's only sense of where they were located was his ability to read ki.

Trunks flew backwards to escape the rogue blasts in the area, but stayed watching his father deftly avoid most of the blasts, and successfully stop a large number with retaliatory ki blasts. When a stray blast hit Vegeta on the arm, he barely flinched, even though Trunks could see the scorch mark from where he stood. Vegeta kept going, sometimes taking to the air, sometimes dropping to the ground, but no matter how close the blasts got, even when one hit him on the shoulder and sent him hurtling to the ground, the Saiyan prince didn't make a sound.

Vegeta didn't take off his blindfold until all the blasts had dissipated. When he did, he took off his headphones and looked at Trunks. "That was not child's play," he said, his heavier than usual breathing the only indication that the exercise had tired him. "Until you have mastered the rest you will not try this."

Trunks nodded in answer, a flood of relief rushing through him. He wasn't afraid of death per se, but he did have a healthy desire to _not_ die in a training accident. When Vegeta started the same routine again, Trunks opted to do as his father suggested and master the basics. Or at least attempt to. He started back at the beginning with the ki balancing meditation, before moving on to katas without ki.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been at it - hours it felt like - when he realised Vegeta stood watching him, his arms folded and head tilted critically.

"Your katas are sloppy," Vegeta growled. "You have no technique, no precision."

Trunks bristled, but bit back a snarky reply.

Vegeta's frown deepened. "Tomorrow I will show you."

Trunks straightened in surprise. Did that mean his father had officially decided to start training him?

Vegeta started to fly back towards lighter air, landing outside the living quarters. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Two hours. Get some rest."

It was only early evening and Trunks looked longingly at the fridge, hungry once again. But his tired body needed sleep more, so he went to his room and dropped onto his bed like a deadweight, falling asleep as his head sank into the pillow.

* * *

Vegeta had been right yesterday when he'd said the boy didn't have the stamina for his daily training session. When they'd got back to the living quarters, Vegeta had taken one look at Trunks and realised he was half asleep already. Even so, Vegeta had to grudgingly admit to himself that the kid had lasted better than he'd thought he would.

Vegeta sent Trunks off to rest not just because he'd taken pity on the boy, but because spending that much time in someone else's company had set Vegeta on edge. Even living with Raditz and Nappa in cramped quarters, Vegeta had plenty of time to himself - probably because those two avoided him and his temper as often as they could, especially after Kalyana.

Vegeta contemplated doing some solo training without the boy's watchful gaze, but in the end decided to enjoy the silence and sat on his bed reading a book he'd picked up on his return trip through Fekahra and was already part way through.

About fifteen minutes before the two hours was up, he went to the kitchen to cook a stir fry. He was hungry, so Trunks would probably be starving when he woke up. Vegeta felt decidedly uncomfortable cooking for anyone but Bulma, and even then, it had taken him a long time to get used to the idea. He'd been taught from a young age that food was sacred, and sharing it with others was an honour for them, not a right, especially if they weren't Saiyan as well. But Trunks was half Saiyan, and he had proven himself worthy of a little respect from Vegeta, not that the Saiyan prince would ever tell him that.

Trunks wandered in, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "I thought I smelt food." He grinned when he saw the wok. "Please tell me I get some of that. I don't think I've ever been so hungry in my life."

Vegeta snorted. "Clearly you've had an easy life then."

Trunks reached out and stole a slice of capsicum off the bench. "My world has been destroyed by androids. I wouldn't call it an easy life."

He went to reach for more and Vegeta whacked his hand with a wooden spoon, without looking up from the wok he was shaking.

"Ow!" Trunks nursed his sore hand with a scowl.

"My planet was blown up. Yours still exists at least," Vegeta pointed out.

"Food isn't easy to come by when homicidal androids are hunting you down," Trunks said. "I know what it is like to be hungry. What's the longest _you've_ been without food?"

"Three months," Vegeta replied automatically, before cursing himself inwardly for answering. Now the boy would ask a ton of follow up questions, pestering him until he answered them all, or threatened to kill him.

"That isn't humanly possible," Trunks said, staring at him with wide eyes.

"I'm not human," Vegeta reminded him. "It is perfectly possible for a Saiyan to survive without food for three months." At Trunks' flabbergasted expression, Vegeta elaborated. "I'll concede though that is not possible to survive that long without food and not be a mental and physical wreak."

"What happened?" Trunks asked. "Did you decide starving yourself would make you stronger?"

Vegeta threw Trunks a glare. "I crashed on an uninhabited planet and Frieza refused to allow anyone to answer my distress calls. If you want this food, no more questions, or I'll eat it all myself.

Trunks opened him mouth, then seemed to think better of it and pressed his lips together tightly.

Vegeta sighed to himself. They still had _months_ to go in here. If the boy kept up his incessant stream of questions, Vegeta would be tempted to high tail it back to space to escape them.

* * *

Trunks had been expecting Vegeta to get straight back into training after their late dinner. Instead, Vegeta went to his room, then brought out a pile of paper and some pencils. The top sheet of paper contained prewritten diagrams and notes. The other sheets were blank. Vegeta glanced at the calculation on the page briefly, then took a blank sheet and started drawing.

Trunks sat down at the corner of the table, watching his father make lines and notations on the paper that made so sense. Vegeta glanced up at Trunks with a frown, as if suddenly remembering he was there. Vegeta took out a second sheet of blank paper and drew some straight lines, arrows, and numbers on it. He pushed it over to Trunks.

"This is you're starting point," he said, tapping a small circle in the middle of the paper. "I've noted the timing of the ki blasts, their velocity, and the distance they are coming from. Work out where you need to be and when to avoid them, and what blasts you should fire to disrupt or deflect your enemies.

Trunks stared at the paper blankly. "You're doing maths?"

"It is basic physics and trigonometry," Vegeta said, raising his eyebrows. "I can't imagine your mother wouldn't have taught you those, even with androids trying to blow your head off."

"She did." Trunks' stomach sank and he slumped in his chair miserably. "It doesn't mean I was good at it."

Vegeta sniffed and started back on his own work. "If you weren't a Super Saiyan I'd doubt you had any of my genes."

Trunks slumped further into his chair and picked up the piece of paper. Of all things, why did his father have to add _maths_ to his daily routine? Trunks could pull a machine completely apart and put it back together without of bolt out of place, but mathematical concepts had eluded him. Even though she tried to hide it, his mother had always seemed disappointed by his lack of mathematical aptitude. Now he knew why.

He attempted some equations in the hope that if he at least tried, his father would still agree to train him tomorrow. When he finished, Vegeta took his paper from him and started writing notes all over it.

Vegeta put his pencil down and stared at Trunks paper for a moment. "You weren't kidding." He looked at Trunks with a smirk. "You are terrible at mathematics. Are you sure you're not the product of another Saiyan-Earthling relationship?"

Trunks scowled and snatched the paper back. "Unfortunately, no. You are stuck with me despite my mathematical incompetence."

"Purple hair and no mathematical skills. What a disappointment," Vegeta said with a dark chuckle as he started on a new blank paper.

"Is that what you imagined your child to be like? Dark hair and good at maths?" Trunks asked, his tone coming out sulkier than he'd meant it to.

Vegeta glanced up at Trunks with a frown. "I never wanted children so I suppose I never imaged what they could be like." He stayed silent a moment, watching Trunks with a considering gaze. "My father was extremely charismatic - a master of diplomatic manipulation. He could talk almost anyone to do what he wanted. Frieza being the main exception of course. I, unfortunately did not get that talent, despite my father's many, many lessons. He did not understand how he'd produced such a misanthropic child."

Trunks stared at his father, wondering if he'd heard correctly. Had Vegeta really told him a story about his past - voluntarily no less - to make Trunks feel better about not getting the math genius gene both his parents had?

"Here." Vegeta handed Trunks a new piece of paper. "I've dumbed it down to maths an infant could do. Let's see if you can wrap your idiot brain around that."

Trunks took the paper with a sigh, realising that Vegeta had probably only said something nice to make his next insult pack more punch.

* * *

After they'd completed the torturous math session, Vegeta took Trunks back out into the mist. He started with more katas, but these ones were a lot faster than the ones from the morning. He added many more types of kicks and punches, whirling around the chamber as if fighting an invisible enemy. When Trunks concentrated, he could almost see the enemy fly back at Vegeta's hit, and then get up and attack, only to be knocked back by a swift kick.

Vegeta didn't use ki this time, but it looked like he was practicing only close hand to hand combat techniques.

Trunks decided to give it a go himself. He started with the formations he'd seen Vegeta do in the morning, then added different punches and kicks he'd learnt from Gohan. After about an hour, Trunks glanced at Vegeta. His father was still at it without ki, but Trunks was bored. Deciding his father was too engrossed in his own training to worry about what Trunks was doing, Trunks started playing with ki beams as well. He'd never really thought about using ricocheting ki as a weapon - Gohan had always attacked head on, using his pure rage to push back against ki blasts to destroy them totally before the hit him.

It was actually fun, Trunks realised with a grin as he started to get the hang of it. No wonder Vegeta had called it child's play. Trunks didn't have a great grasp on the angles required to send a beam in a specific direction though. When a beam deflected and headed straight in Vegeta's direction, Trunks froze.

It hurtled towards Vegeta, who seemed completely oblivious to it.

"Look out!" Trunks yelled at the last moment.

Vegeta turned and used his own ki to swat the blast back towards Trunks as if it were a sport's ball. Trunks didn't have time to react, and the rebounded ki hit him square in the chest, knocking him to the ground.

Trunks opened his eyes, seeing only blurry lights for a moment. When his vision cleared, a furious Vegeta knelt over him.

"Moron!" His scowl deepened as he helped Trunks sit up. "You are lucky the last had been deflected a few times and had lost much of its original power."

"I didn't mean to…" Trunks felt his face flush right red. _Shit_. There was no way his father was going to train him now.

"Go to bed," Vegeta said. "It is late and you likely need more sleep than a Saiyan."

Trunks nodded miserably and started to head back. He was surprised to feel Vegeta's ki following him in. When they got back to the living area, Trunks realised it was nearly midnight. No wonder his body felt like it was about to keel over.

Vegeta went straight to his room, but paused at the door and looked at Trunks. "Same time tomorrow." A smirk crept onto his face. "If you think you can handle it again."

He disappeared inside before Trunks could reply. Trunks grinned to himself. Even the idea of only four hours sleep couldn't hamper his mood. His father was going to train him!


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

 _He stood on a clifftop overlooking a decimated city, listening to the crumbling of buildings and the odd explosion echo through the air. The screams of the city's inhabitants had long since faded - he'd killed them all quickly, unenthusiastic about the lack of a challenge on this planet._

 _For Vegeta, killing a sentient being was no different than killing an animal and eating it. It was a means to an end. Survival. However, afterwards he often dwelled on the moments his victims went from fighting to an empty shell. It was a morbid curiosity, not any kind of remorse, but sometimes he wondered if he was already that empty shell._

 _Purges like these - the ones where the planet's inhabitants had no power to fight back and posed no challenge at all to the Saiyan prince, truly made it clear just how pointless everyone's lives were. Including his own._

 _It the end, they were all destined to the same fate. Death, and whatever lay beyond it._

 _Elrik landed beside him, his uniform dusty and soot-smeared. The black streak across his cheek and the accompanying smile made Vegeta realise why this planet's people had given Elrik the moniker 'the smiling devil'._

 _"All done?" Elrik asked, despite the obvious carnage in front of them._

 _Vegeta didn't answer. He crossed his arms and watched as a twenty-two story building that had been groaning for a while suddenly crumpled, leaving nothing but dust in its wake._

 _"Nappa's back at the pods. He's always been sullen, but have I done something to anger him? The only time he acknowledges my presence is to glare at me." Elrik kept talking without waiting for Vegeta to answer. "Let's head back. I can't wait to get back to base and eat a proper meal. The food on this rock is terrible, don't you think? I want a giant slab of meat, mountains of vegetables, and a thick sauce to cover it all."_

 _"Am I supposed to care?" Vegeta said, not realising he'd spoken aloud until Elrik stopped talking and stared at him._

 _"About food?" Elrik raised his eyebrows. "You're a Saiyan. I thought it was in your genes."_

 _Vegeta shook his head and let out the air in his lungs. He gestured towards the city. "About this. I've killed billions of people. Destroyed countless lives. And I don't… I don't care. Am I supposed to?"_

 _"Oh." Elrik stayed silent for a moment. They looked out at the clouds of dust swirling in the air as the sun set beyond the horizon. It would have been beautiful if the smell of blood and burnt flesh didn't fill the atmosphere. "I don't think we can let ourselves care and survive this universe."_

 _"If we_ don't _care, how are we any better than Frieza?" Vegeta focused on the destruction in front of him instead of on Elrik, half afraid of the Jalakal's answer._

 _Elrik laughed softly. "Frieza is evil incarnate. We do this because we must. He forces us to do it for his own power. Besides, I don't feel evil. Do you?"_

 _Vegeta dug his nails into his palm at that idea. "No," he admitted, slowly unclenching his fists. "But I'm not sure Frieza thinks he's evil either."_

* * *

Trunks repeated the same kata over and over as Vegeta circled him, correcting his positions by both yelling insults and physically kicking his feet back into place, or slapping his arms up or down. Trunks grit his teeth through it all, even though he desperately wanted to slap Vegeta's arm and see how he liked it.

Despite his harsh manner, Vegeta had turned out to be a surprisingly good teacher, giving Trunks different tips and techniques to be faster, or think strategically that were already helping him improve. He was tough though - pushing Trunks both physically and mentally through gruelling routines. Trunks had come to realise that the day Vegeta allowed him to tag along, Vegeta had been taking it slow to allow Trunks to keep up.

"What is my most obvious physical disadvantage?" Vegeta asked, giving Trunks' left shoulder a sharp prod to make him lift it. "Pretend that you've never seen me fight."

Trunks thought for a moment. The answer was obvious, but Vegeta was usually prickly about it. "You're… not tall?" He offered, hesitantly.

"I'm usually smaller than my opponent," Vegeta said with a nod. "But what how does that disadvantage me?"

"You have… less reach." Trunks gasped for air as he spoke, exhausted from constantly doing katas for the last two hours. "You need to get closer to your enemy to hit them."

"Elbow out," Vegeta instructed. "How could my weakness be an advantage?"

Trunks readjusted his elbow and frowned. Vegeta was a fierce warrior, and his size certainly hadn't mattered in their sparring sessions. "They could underestimate you?"

"Sometimes," Vegeta conceded, starting the kata himself, whirling around with fluid motions that reminded Trunks of the ocean. "But also, being smaller means I'm a harder target to hit, and gives me a natural advantage of speed." He demonstrated by turning a kata move into a sweeping kick that had Trunks on his back, gasping for breath.

"What's your point?" Trunks asked grumpily, clambering back to his feet.

"Agility and technique can win a fight that seems hopeless," Vegeta said without breaking his kata. "I've been fighting warriors who are stronger, faster, and bigger than me since I was a child. And yet, I have managed to defeat most of the warriors who once defeated me."

Trunks struggled to imagine his father as a child. The serious intensity he bore didn't belong on a child, and Trunks couldn't picture Vegeta without it. "How did you defeat them?"

"I couldn't always get stronger," Vegeta said. "Although I have nearly killed myself plenty of times trying. I could sometimes get faster. Bigger usually means slower, and therefore a reliance on strength, so I took advantage where I could."

Vegeta finished his kata and moved into another. Trunks groaned as his aching muscles struggled to keep up.

"However," Vegeta continued, "If you can't get stronger _or_ faster, there is only one thing left."

"What's that?" Trunks asked, hoping the answer was taking a break from katas.

"You need to be smarter." Vegeta didn't even break a sweat at the movements. "Your main priority in a fight is to find your opponent's weaknesses and work out how to take advantage of those weaknesses and how to use their strengths against them."

"Have you worked out Cell's?" Trunks asked.

Vegeta scowled and proceeded to knock Trunks off his feet again with a kick behind his legs. "Your balance is still off," he said, walking off back to the chamber's quarters as if Trunks had never asked the question.

* * *

 _Vegeta lay on his bed, staring at the bunk above him. He'd arrived back at Frieza's base ship from yet another purge a few hours ago, and had barely managed to find the mental energy to shower and change. Now that the adrenaline had completely worn off, Vegeta found himself sinking deeper and deeper in an overwhelming sense of nothingness. He didn't know how else to explain it. He was usually so driven by vengeance, and by a desire to be the best, or even more simply by a need to satiate his base requirements. Every so often though, he'd find himself unable to feel anything, unable to move, or even care what the consequences might be if he didn't go about his day._

 _Fortunately, there would be few consequences other than hunger if he didn't get out of his bed today. The Saiyans all had a couple of days leave before their next mission, so as long as Vegeta could get it together in time, he would be fine. For now though, he lay there, counting the springs. He knew how many there were already - seven hundred and twenty in total, twelve across and sixty down - but he counted them anyway, the repetition of the task somehow soothing._

Two hundred and eighty three, two hundred and eighty four…

 _Raditz barged in, practically skipping through the door. Vegeta contemplated demanding that he leave, but he decided that he couldn't be bothered even doing that._

 _Raditz leaned his arm on the bunk above Vegeta and peered down at him. "There's a big party happening on Druralis."_

 _Vegeta didn't answer and continued counting silently._ Two hundred and eighty seven, two hundred and eighty nine, two hundred and-

 _"I checked the charts and it's on our way to the next mission." Raditz tapped a pattern on the metal frame. "Want to go?"_

 _Vegeta sighed and turned his gaze on the other Saiyan. "No."_

 _Raditz pouted sulkily - a ridiculous expression on the tall Saiyan. "Nappa won't go either - he's in a shit because the Jalakals are going. I can't work out which one he's jealous of, the prince or the princess."_

 _Even the idea of seeing Kalyana didn't evoke an urge to get up. Vegeta put his arm over his head to block Raditz's face and started counting imaginary springs in his head._

 _Raditz made a humming sound under his breath and rapped on the bunk again. "One of those days?" he asked._

 _Vegeta grunted in reply, hoping Raditz would get the hint._

 _The bed squeaked as Raditz straightened, then the swishing sound of the door let Vegeta know he'd left the room. Sighing in relief, Vegeta pulled his pillow over his head, and started counting how many seconds he could stay under there until giving up and gasping for air._

 _He hadn't come up for air once when the door swished open again. Vegeta lifted the pillow off with a scowl as Raditz walked in, carrying plates of food. Raditz set them down on the table, then dragged the table closer the bed, then pulled a chair next to Vegeta and sat down in it._

 _"What are you doing?" Vegeta growled._

 _"If you won't go to the party, I'll bring the party to you," Raditz said with a grin._

 _"I don't want to go to a party," Vegeta said through gritted teeth. "I want to be left alone. Get out."_

 _Raditz picked up a bowl of meat stew and shook his head. "No."_

 _Vegeta dragged himself into a sitting position. "Out!"_

 _Raditz stared at Vegeta with wide eyes and took a slow, deliberate mouthful of food._

 _Vegeta shut his eyes briefly. He could physically force Raditz to leave, but he didn't have the energy and the other Saiyan knew it. When he opened his eyes again, Raditz held out a bowl of food towards Vegeta._

 _Vegeta reached out of took it instinctively, but simply stared at the meat floating in the gravy, unable to bring himself to take a bite._

 _"Don't do this again," Raditz said quietly. "We need you."_

 _Vegeta winced at his words and took a mouthful of food. It tasted like ash in his mouth. "I'm fine," Vegeta said, prodding another piece of meat. "Go to Druralis."_

 _"None of us are_ fine _. Least of all you." Raditz put his bowl down and picked up a piece of bread, breaking it into small pieces with his hands and putting it on an empty plate beside him. "Did Kalyana break it off?"_

 _Vegeta scowled and shook his head._

 _"What's wrong then?"_

 _"Nothing is wrong!" Vegeta threw Raditz a furious glare. "Why do you even care? Go to Druralis and leave me alone."_

 _"I'm your friend." Raditz watched Vegeta closely and started popping the pieces of broken bread into his mouth one by one._

 _"We are_ not _friends," Vegeta snarled, shoving the uneaten bowl of food back into Raditz's hands._

 _"Of course we are." Raditz sounded amused. "You insult and attack everyone, but with people you like, you don't knock them out when you hit them. You've never knocked me out once."_

 _Vegeta blinked at Raditz's perception. "That doesn't make us friends. It makes us…"_

 _"Allies?" Raditz countered. "Prince and loyal subject? Call it what you want, but I'm not going to let you sit here and fall down your black hole of self-loathing. I know Nappa normally does this but he's in his own world lately, so that leaves it to me. I'll make sure you eat, and when it's time for our mission I'll drag you onto your pod to get you there so you don't miss it and end up getting beaten to hell and refused a med tank again."_

 _Vegeta lay back down and closed his eyes. "You're an idiot. You couldn't drag me to my pod if I didn't want you too, and believe me, I don't want or need your help."_

 _"We'll see." Raditz stayed silent for a while. Then he let out a soft laugh. "You remember when we were kids, and I stole Zarbon's special anniversary dinner?"_

 _Vegeta snorted a laugh at the image of Zarbon's furious face. "How could I forget?"_

 _"When I got caught, you told Zarbon you'd done it because you knew Frieza wouldn't allow him to kill you."_

 _"I should have let him kill you instead." Vegeta cracked an eye open to look at Raditz. "Then I'd be getting peace and quiet right now."_

 _"Well, you didn't," Raditz said, as if that explained everything._

* * *

The boy was going to drive him mad. Vegeta had refused to cook him meals, and after day after day of watching him flounder in the kitchen, Vegeta wanted to take the large iron wok and give Trunks a good whack to the back of his head with it.

It had been amusing at first, watching Trunks' wistful expression as he looked from Vegeta's food to his own, usually burnt, pile of tasteless gunk. Now though, Vegeta began to wonder if he'd have been better off cooking for the boy, just to avoid the chaos happening in the kitchen.

Vegeta finished his meal and took his dishes into the kitchen. Trunks scowled at the wok as if willing it to unburn. The charcoal stink made Vegeta want to gag.

On a whim, Vegeta snatched up the wok and dumped the contents into the rubbish bin.

"I… you…" Trunks opened and closed his mouth like a fish before shifting his expression into a fierce glare. "I was going to eat that!"

"Saiyans eat food, boy." Vegeta rinsed the wok then started pulling out ingredients "As far as I'm aware, it is also a human requirement. Whatever that was, it was not food." He turned down the cooktop's element a couple of notches then put the wok back on. "Two capfuls into the wok," he said, handing Trunks a bottle of oil.

Trunks held the bottle of oil, looking from it then back to Vegeta. A slow smile snuck onto his mouth, making Vegeta roll his eyes.

When the boy did as he was told and tipped the oil in, Vegeta showed him how to move the oil around the bottom of the wok. "Don't add anything else until the oil runs like water when you tip the wok. That will mean it is hot enough."

Vegeta pulled out containers of prechopped vegetables from the fridge. "Onion." He slid the container towards Trunks. "One handful. Stir with the wooden spoon until it is lightly brown. Not dark brown. Not black. _Lightly_ brown. Got it?"

They went on like this, Vegeta instructing Trunks in the basics of cooking a stir fry until he was satisfied the meal was good enough.

When Trunks took his first bite, his eyes bulged. "This is so good! You made it seem easy, but I think I should have written everything down."

"You aren't an idiot." Vegeta frowned at Trunks' ridiculously wide grin. "Not a complete idiot," he corrected. "You will remember and cook it tomorrow night for both of us."

"How did you learn to cook?" Trunks asked, shovelling in his food and speaking in bursts between bites. "Do you use recipes much? Have you ever cooked something and burnt it? What's the best planet for food?"

Vegeta shook his head and leaned on the kitchen bench, putting his head in his hands. He wasn't cut out to be around people for long periods of time. The boy's constant yapping made his head throb. When Vegeta lifted his head again, Trunks had focussed a concerned look his way.

"One question per week," Vegeta said before the brat could start talking again. "If you keep it to that I will answer."

Trunks froze, his food halfway towards his mouth. He lowered his chopsticks slowly, then tapped them against his bowl. "Can I get one now?"

Vegeta nodded with a deep sigh. Maybe then he could get some peace and quiet.

"What was Vegeta-sei like?"

Vegeta stiffened at the shift in question from food to his home planet. He placed his hands on the cool kitchen bench and stared at them, tracing every scar with his gaze as he contemplated his answer. What was his planet like? It had been so long, and he was so young when he last set foot on it.

"I think it was warm," he said slowly. "Although I suppose the temperature may have been regional. The dirt was a brownish red, and…" He frowned, trying to visualise it in his head, then glanced at Trunks, who'd stopped eating. "It is probably easiest if I compare it to Earth."

Trunks nodded his agreement. "I don't have any other planets as a frame of reference."

Vegeta chuckled darkly. "Whereas I have hundreds. I believe the plant life was darker than Earth's. Almost a dark blue rather than green." He closed his eyes in an attempt to conjure up his faded memories. "The air smelt different. It's hard to describe." He opened his eyes again, frustrated at how much he'd forgotten. "You could almost taste the air. It was… sweeter, maybe? A lot of the plants were edible, and a little like the herbs and spices on Earth, but they grew everywhere and their smell constantly permeated the air."

"You miss it," Trunks said, watching Vegeta with an intensity that made him uncomfortable.

Something inside Vegeta flickered at the idea of missing his home, but he hid it behind the stoic mask he'd perfected after years of hiding his hatred of Frieza. He gave a shrug in answer instead. "I don't think I remember enough to truly miss it."

"You don't have to remember something to miss it," Trunks said quietly. "Sometimes I think it means you miss it even more."

Vegeta tensed at his son's words, unsure if he was talking about the world he'd lost, or _him_ , the father he'd never known. "Twenty minutes," he said gruffly, leaving the living are as quickly as he could to avoid discovering the answer. What had he been thinking, promising the boy a question a week? The boy wasn't _driving_ him to madness. He was already there.


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

 **If I used chapter titles, I would have called this one "Conversations with my alien not-quite-reformed-murderer father".**

* * *

As they settled into a routine, Trunks found himself getting used to the long days and short sleep cycles that Vegeta kept. His father kept his promise to answer one question every seven days, and Trunks had done his best not to ask questions about his father's past until their allocated time. He looked forward to Vegeta's answers, which he gave seriously, and as far as Trunks could tell, honestly - sometimes brutally so.

Vegeta was a tough man to understand. When they'd first entered the chamber, Trunks had found him closed off, prickly, and hard to read because the only emotion he ever displayed was irritation. And now… okay, his father was _still_ all those things, but Trunks began to realise that there might be more to Vegeta than being an alien not-quite-reformed murderer.

Trunks was excited for today's question. He'd decided to wait until he was cooking dinner so Vegeta couldn't run away straight after. He knew his father wouldn't leave if he hadn't eaten. Food was more important than anything else to the Saiyan prince.

Trunks shook the noodles in the wok, flicking his wrist like his father had shown him. "I have my question."

Vegeta grunted in response, not looking up from the book he was reading while seated at the table.

"What was your mother- No, wait. What were your _parents_ like?"

"Clever," Vegeta drawled, turning the page of his book. "Two questions in one. Your mother would be proud."

Trunks frowned, unsure if his father was mocking him since the man's tone was so steady.

Vegeta stayed quiet for a moment, his eyes flicking back and forth as he continued reading. After a minute, he closed the book and set it down, drumming his fingers on the cover.

"Don't burn it, boy," Vegeta snapped, making Trunks flush as he realised he'd been staring at his father.

Trunks tossed the noodles again, then started plating the food. His meals never tasted as good as Vegeta's, but he took every dinner declared 'edible' by the man to be a success.

When Trunks had served the food Vegeta started to eat, making no sign of answering the question. Trunks started eating his own food in an attempt not to appear impatient, but couldn't help glancing at Vegeta with every bite.

Vegeta put down his chopsticks and rubbed his temples with a deep sigh. "Stop looking at me like I have the dragon balls and you want a wish."

"Sorry," Trunks mumbled. "It's just… I never thought I would know _you_. And now I might know something about my grandparents as well."

"I'm not sure how much I can tell you." Vegeta picked up his chopsticks again and started eating slowly, only talking in between mouthfuls. "I don't remember very much about my mother. She was a warrior. Almost as strong as my father, so they were considered a good match I think."

"What did she look like?" Trunks asked, trying to picture a female Saiyan warrior in his head.

Vegeta looked down at his plate. "I can't remember." He jabbed his food a couple of times before looking back up. "I know she had dark hair and eyes. I know she was smaller than my father. But I can't…" He rubbed his face with his free hand. "I can't picture her anymore. I haven't been able to in years."

"You don't have any photos of her… did Saiyan's take photos?" Trunks asked.

Vegeta shook his head. "No. Well, we did have something similar, but I don't have any." He blinked quickly then started eating again. After a few bites he started talking again. "I can picture my father easier, but perhaps it is just that I've been told so many times that I look like him that visualising him is simpler." Vegeta frowned and pressed his lips together before continuing. "I admired him. Everything I did as a boy was to make him proud. He taught me to never back down. Never show fear. He said the moment you did, the other side won..."

As Vegeta trailed off, Trunks remained quiet, watching his father closely. Vegeta kept his emotions so close that Trunks often wondered if he felt them at all. Now though, he started to notice the clench in his father's jaw and the tension in his shoulders.

"Then my father willingly handed me over to Frieza." Vegeta had finished his meal, and he pushed his plate back. He stayed sitting at the table, tapping his fingers on the wooden surface.

"He just… handed you over?" Trunks asked, shocked. His mother would have died before handing him over to the androids.

Vegeta laughed, although it was laced with the weight of his next words. "I was… what is the term here? Insurance. If my people rebelled, Frieza would kill me. If Frieza hurt me, my people would rebel. Father told me to do what Frieza said until I became strong enough to defeat him and free my people."

"Who says that to a kid?" Trunks asked. To put that much weight on anyone, let alone a child, was insane.

"A desperate man," Vegeta said. "It didn't matter in the end. Frieza prevented my father from seeing me, so he had no idea if I was treated well or not. Nappa managed to get a message out to my father. I don't know what it said, but it must have been compelling because my father tried to get me back."

"But it didn't work," Trunks said quietly, looking at his own food and feeling ill.

"No. It didn't. Frieza killed my father, then destroyed my planet and everyone still on it."

* * *

 _"Nappa saw me leave the control room," Kalyana whispered as she came back into Vegeta's room._

 _"Come back to bed," Vegeta said with a yawn. "Don't worry about Nappa. He's not going to say anything that would put me at risk."_

 _"I don't trust him," Kalyana said, crawling back into bed next to him._

 _"That's funny," Vegeta said, pulling her close. "He doesn't trust you either."_

 _Kalyana rolled onto her side and looked into his eyes. 'If I get caught, promise me you'll do whatever you must to stay alive. If anyone can take down Frieza it will be you. And I couldn't stand it if I…"_

 _"So you do care." Vegeta grinned at her. "Here I was thinking you've merely been using me for my access band."_

 _"Well, that and your body," Kalyana said with a laugh. She reached out and tickled his side with her long fingernails. "I'm certainly using that as well."_

* * *

Trunks had thought hard about how to phrase this week's question. What he really wanted to know was whether Vegeta was going to stay on Earth, or leave after the battle with Cell – assuming they survived - but he got the feeling that Vegeta still hadn't made up his mind about that. "What would you do if you leave Earth after Cell is defeated?" he asked instead.

Vegeta, who was mid ki blast at that moment, frowned at the question, like he did almost all of them. He might have been cautious in how he answered Trunks' queries, but he did seem to give them all considerable thought, and he didn't brush them off with one word answers like he had before they'd come to this one question per week deal.

Trunks dodged the blast and sent one back to his father.

"I've lost my life savings," Vegeta said, which wasn't as all what Trunks was expecting to hear. Vegeta took advantage of Trunks' surprise and nearly sidestepped the ki, then rushed in with a sharp punch to Trunks' left shoulder that sent him reeling back. "I had amassed quite a fortune. I think even your mother would have been impressed. Unfortunately for me, although happily for the rest of the universe, Cold Credits are no longer accepted."

Trunks regained his balance and flew at Vegeta, nearly taking him by surprise, but only scraping the side of his jaw.

"I have property under alternative names on several planets that I may liquidate," Vegeta said, doing a backflip as he avoided a kick from Trunks. "With that I could get by for some time."

"You knew it might happen," Trunks said, panting and he blocked a counter attack. "You knew Frieza would be defeated."

"No." Vegeta swung a right hook that Trunks blocked with his arm. "I hoped that would be the case, but I merely prepared for all eventualities."

"So you have some money. My mother will give you a spaceship. And then what?" Trunks asked, finally managing to gain ground on Vegeta and force him backwards with a ki blast. "You'll just disappear into space never to return?"

"I will stop in Fekahra for news to check I was successful in eliminating the last of Frieza's loyalists. And then…" He stopped talking while Trunks attacked with a flurry of punches. Trunks couldn't help but smirk at the idea his father had to solely concentrate on his defence. He never used to have to do that when Trunks attacked him.

Still, Trunks barely connected any of his blows, and Vegeta managed to get in a powerful one that sent Trunks reeling backwards.

Vegeta gave him a wild grin and sent a ki blast over that Trunks barely managed to avoid. "You might actually be a worthwhile opponent soon," he said, powering out of his Super Saiyan form in a signal to stop the spar.

Trunks felt a rush of pride, despite not having won that particular spar. His father didn't dish out praise often, so when he did Trunks knew it was genuine.

"After Fekahra I may stop in Jalak." Vegeta sat down on the tiles, looking tired.

Trunks realised his father didn't look at alert as usual. He had dark circles under his eyes, and now that he thought about it, Trunks had seen him rubbing his temples a couple of times today.

"The Jalakals recently took their planet back from loyalists and they will still be rebuilding," Vegeta continued.

"You helped them get their planet back," Trunks guessed. He watched his father's expression carefully.

His father shrugged. "I may have played a part. I spent a lot of time there when I was a little older than you. Time for lunch." He stood up abruptly, effectively ending the conversation.

Trunks stared at his father's retreating back, wondering how much more there was to that story.

* * *

 _Vegeta's door opened and Kalyana rushed in, her face pale. "They know", she gasped. "It's over. I'm sorry."_

 _Vegeta stood in the middle of the room, dumbstruck. They knew. They_ knew _._

 _"You were not involved." Kalyana said in a hushed whisper. "No matter what, Vegeta. Survive." Then she pulled him into a kiss._

 _Vegeta closed his eyes and leaned into it, still unable to register what she was telling him. He felt a sharp pain in his side and pulled away with a gasp. Kalyana stepped back, a bloody knife in his hand. As if in a dream, Vegeta slowly placed his hand on his side and looked down at the red liquid seeping through his fingers._

 _His body started to tingle and, suddenly unable to remain upright, Vegeta sank to his knees._

 _"What did you do?" His tongue felt heavy, and when he looked up at Kalyana she was a haloed blur._

 _"You were not involved. I just came in here to admit what I'd done and asked for your help, but you refused."_

 _Vegeta groaned as a wave of nausea swept over him. He tipped sideways and fell completely to the floor, his limbs going limp._

 _"Keep the pressure on." Kalyana's warm hand picked up his, pressing it back against the wound. "You should survive the poison. They'll be looking for me and it won't take them long to look here. Someone will find you."_

 _"_ Should _survive?" Vegeta mumbled. He could barely keep his eyes open._

 _"You will survive," Kalyana said furiously. "You have to. Survive and kill the bastard that has destroyed our lives."_

 _Then she was gone, disappearing out of his room and out of his life. Vegeta choked on a cry as he heard footsteps thudding down the hallway. The taste of blood in his mouth made him realise somewhere in the back of his mind that Kalyana had hit an organ. Unable to call out and distract the soldiers from going in Kalyana's direction, Vegeta used the last of his strength to send a ki blast across the room, blasting open his door._

 _The sound of footsteps changed and came closer to his direction. Vegeta let his eyes close and darkness take over, hoping that if Kalyana was caught, he wouldn't have to wake up._

* * *

"What was Frieza like?"

Vegeta froze at the question, his mouth open and about to take a bit of the sandwich in his hand. He placed the sandwich carefully back on the plate, and looked at Trunks. "You met him," he said. "You shouldn't need me to describe him."

"He's the reason you don't like purple," Trunks said, tapping his fingers on the wooden table.

"Is that a question?" Vegeta grit his teeth. He had promised he'd answer any question, but if could get out of talking about Frieza, he would.

Trunks stopped tapping, and tilted his head slightly, watching Vegeta intently. "No," he said finally. "And you are right. I know what he was like. I haven't lost any sleep over killing him."

Vegeta picked up his sandwich again, relieved. He took a bite, enjoying the way his teeth sank into the bread, crunched on the lettuce, then sank into the chicken. Food on Earth was so much better than most other planets. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

"What did Frieza do to you?"

Vegeta choked at the question, then started coughing. He managed to swallow his food, then drunk a large glass of water. He turned to Trunks, breathing heavily. "What kind of question is that?"

A very open-ended one?" Trunks said with a nervous smile.

Vegeta pushed the rest of his sandwich away, feeling ill. His mind whirled, trying to figure out the minimum he could say while still giving a truthful answer that would satisfy Trunks. "If I answer that question," he said slowly. "You will not ask me anything for four weeks."

Trunks frowned. "That's not fair. It's always been one week."

Vegeta snorted. "Life isn't fair. Four weeks."

"Three," said Trunks. He eyed Vegeta's plate. "And you give me the rest of your sandwich."

Vegeta looked at his plate and sighed. He nudged it in Trunks' direction. "Fine. Are you sure you want to know?" He asked. "Your mother doesn't know most of this story."

"I want to know," Trunks said, taking a bite of Vegeta's sandwich. "Tell me what Frieza did to you."

"I was young," Vegeta began, looking at the faint scars on his hands as he spoke. "About five Earth years old when Frieza took me..."

* * *

Trunks leaned back in his chair. Only five years old, and in the hands of that evil creature? Vegeta didn't look at him as he spoke, and the usual mask of indifference had slipped slightly. His hands twitched slightly, and his eyes remained downcast.

"My age wasn't a factor for Frieza. I was already as strong as my father, so I was considered an asset. I had a title that meant nothing, a palace I couldn't visit, and a planet of people depending on me, even though I was effectively a slave." Vegeta clenched his hands, and lifted his head to meet Trunks' gaze. "Do you think I am the sort of person who could take orders without question?"

Trunks couldn't help a small laugh. Vegeta was as defiant as they came. "No."

Vegeta splayed his hand on the table and looked back at them. "I did everything Frieza ever asked of me. I argued and fought back but in the end, I still did as I was told, and did so until just before I came to Earth. Maybe you can imagine how he got me to do that."

His voice was cold and distant, as if telling the story of another's life. Trunks clenched his own hands as he imagined exactly what Frieza was capable of enacting on a five-year-old.

"I have a number of scars," Vegeta said. "I would not mind them if they were all wounds of battle. Those are marks of honour to a Saiyan. Most of mine are not from battles."

Trunks swallowed hard. "You don't need to…"

"Go into the details?" Vegeta looked at him and smirked. "Don't have the stomach for it, boy? You asked. I warned you - you might not like every answer I give."

"Who in their right mind would like this answer?" Trunks muttered.

Vegeta raised his eyebrows. "What is a right mind?"

Trunks leaned back in his chair. "Oh… uh it means sane."

"Not everyone is sane," Vegeta pointed out. "Frieza wasn't. I doubt I am."

Trunks laughed, but Vegeta looked at him so seriously that he shut his mouth again, realising that he hadn't been joking.

Vegeta picked up a paper napkin and started folding it. "Frieza was cruel to all his soldiers, but he killed almost everyone else when he was bored. Yet he seemed to have a peculiar fascination with finding new ways to destroy me, while continuing to keep me alive. I was beaten, tortured, starved, and experimented on to get my compliance. The older I got, the less I rebelled, and I ended up a high-ranking officer. But it never stopped." Vegeta let out a dark laugh and unfolded the napkin before refolding it again. "Frieza was very… _fond_ of me."

Trunks felt the blood rush from his face as he began to wonder what Frieza _hadn't_ done to his father.

"I don't know what my father did to Frieza, but the lizard took great pleasure is seeing me suffer. Vegeta dropped the napkin and laid his hand flat, as if forcing it to remain still. "He would tell me that he hoped my father could see us from his final resting place."

"You killed all those people, destroyed those planets because you were forced to, not because you wanted to," Trunks said.

"No," Vegeta said sharply. "Don't go thinking I am blameless. I never refused orders because I cared about the lives Frieza wanted me to destroy. I rebelled because it was the only way to stay, as you put it, in my right mind. If I didn't fight back, I was scared I would lose who I am."

Trunks frowned. He'd been so convinced his father was a monster, but now that Vegeta was trying to tell him he was, Trunks didn't believe it. Not after understanding what made him the way he was. "Something changed, right?" Trunks asked. "You didn't do what Frieza asked and instead helped Goku on Namek."

Vegeta shrugged. "I saw my chance to end Frieza and took it. It didn't work. I never cared about their mission. I never cared about Kakarot, his brat or his friends. I still don't."

"You care about Mom." Trunks watches his father closely. Those dark, alien eyes flashed with something he didn't recognise.

"I have been responsible for the deaths of almost everyone I ever cared about," Vegeta said quietly. "Believe me, you and your mother are better off if I don't care." He stood up abruptly. "No questions for three weeks." Then he walked off into the white mist of the depths of the chamber, and disappeared.

* * *

 _Vegeta dreamed of bright ki surrounding him like a fire burning him alive._

 _He held her in his arms as the life went out of her, his chest tightening and breaths quickening until they came so fast he didn't think he was breathing at all._

 _When the monster reached out to pull him away, he leaned over her body, feeling the last of her ki fade, and his explode. He opened him mouth, unable to stop the scream of despair erupting from his throat._

* * *

It was the screaming that woke him up. Trunks sat up in his bed, frantically looking around the room for the androids. He remembered where and when he was, and started to lie back down, but realised that the screaming hadn't stopped.

Trunks climbed out of his bed to go in search of the sound. There was only one other person it could be, but even when half dead from exhaustion, Vegeta barely made a sound of complaint. These screams were of a different kind of pain. They reminded him of the cries of people whose whole families had been wiped out by the androids.

He entered his father's room cautiously, nudging the door open slowly. The room was alight with white ki, and when he opened the door wide enough, he could see it pulsating around his father's bed. Vegeta appeared to be asleep, but he writhed under the sheets, crying out in another language. As Trunks approached, the ki changed from white to purple, flaring wildly and making the furniture in the room shake.

* * *

 _Viscous liquid surrounded him. Vegeta tried to open his eyes, but even when he managed it, his vision was blurry. Needles pricked his arms, and the oxygen mask over his face dug into his skin._

 _He experimentally attempted to move his limbs. Judging from their stiffness, he had awoken too soon. He needed at least another couple of hours in the med tank to fully heal, but Vegeta had no intention of staying in there that long._

 _He found the centre of his ki and let it explode around him in white and purple waves. The med tank glass cracked and then shattered, sending the thick liquid pooling out onto the ground. Vegeta ripped out the needles in his arms and stepped out of the tank._

 _His knees gave way and he fell to the ground, cutting his palms on the broken glass. He stayed on his hands and knees, breathing heavily and trying to sort out the jumbled memories in his mind. The sedatives hadn't worn off completely, leaving him disoriented._

 _Kalyana' face, both terrified and accepting, came to the forefront of his mind, and his shut his eyes with a small cry. It had to be a trick. A dream. Something other than the truth._

 _The door to the medical chamber opened with a hiss and Vegeta looked up as Elrik walked in, his face drawn and pale._

 _Vegeta struggled to his feet, the sick feeling in his stomach worsening as he realised there was only one possible reason for Elrik's expression._

 _She was dead._

 _Vegeta had killed her._

 _The Jalakal prince stood with his fists clenched and shaking, his jaw locked and his gold and red flecked eyes filled with a fury Vegeta had never seen in them before, not even in the middle of battle._

 _"I'm sorry," Vegeta choked out. "I… I didn't have a choice."_

 _When Elrik took a swing at him, Vegeta didn't fight back. He took the blow and stumbled backwards, spitting out blood onto the sopping tiles._

 _"Our choices are what separate us from Frieza," Elrik hissed. "She's dead because of yours, and you are no better than the monster we serve."_

* * *

Trunks grabbed Vegeta's shoulder and shook him. "Wake up! You're going to blow the room to bits."

Vegeta sat up, eyes wide, and wrapped his hand around Trunks' throat. Trunks gasped for air, to no avail, and took a swing at Vegeta's face. The blow connected with his jaw, and Vegeta dropped Trunks on the floor.

Vegeta scrambled back on the bed, his back to the corner of the wall. Trunks stared up at him, too scared to move, and unable to tell if his father was still asleep.

Vegeta paled as he sat there, his chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. "Get out," he whispered, burying his head in his hands.

Trunks climbed to his feet and backed towards the door, his hands in front of him. "Are you okay?"

"Get out!" Vegeta roared.

Trunks fled the room, wondering what the heck his father had been dreaming about.

* * *

 **A/N: Trunks may be turning into something of a psychiatrist for Vegeta. I can almost imagine him lying on a sofa and telling his son about his past. I hope you liked this chapter, I'm enjoying writing their odd father/son relationship. Let me know if the reviews what you thought if you can!**


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

When Trunks ventured into the kitchen the next morning, Vegeta was up before him as usual, but unlike every other morning, he wasn't eating. Instead, he sat at the table, staring in front of him. He had dark circles under his eyes, and slumped in his seat, like he could fall asleep at any moment.

Trunks made himself a coffee, and after another glance at his father, made him one as well. When Trunks slid the cup in front of him, Vegeta wrapped his hand around the mug and pulled it closer. He wrinkled his nose. "What is it?"

"Coffee," Trunks said, surprised at his food connoisseur father not recognising the drink. "It's what some people drink instead of tea."

"I don't like tea," Vegeta muttered.

"It's _not_ tea." Trunks took a sip of his own and sighed. He hadn't managed to get back to sleep last night and felt exhausted. "Try it. If you don't like it, I'll have yours. I could do with extra."

Vegeta grunted then took a sip. He frowned into the mug of brown liquid. "It's… not terrible."

"High praise," Trunks said with a chuckle. He started making eggs, putting in enough for him and his father. Once he'd cooked and placed the food in front of his father, he sat down opposite Vegeta, watching him carefully while eating his own breakfast.

Vegeta stabbed the middle of an egg, sending runny yolk all over his plate. "I don't dream like humans," he said, picking up his knife and spreading the yolk on a piece of toast like butter. "Most of my dreams are memories."

Trunks inhaled sharply and put down his fork. "I always thought I was just… weird."

Vegeta looked up in surprise. "You too?"

Trunks nodded emphatically. "Yeah. It's horrible most of the time. All my dreams are incredibly realistic. And reliving the worst moments from your past doesn't make the next day much fun."

"I wonder if dreaming like we do is Saiyan specific," Vegeta said before beginning to eat his toast.

"You don't know?"

Vegeta shrugged. "I didn't gossip about my dreams with Nappa or Raditz."

"What did you dream about last night?" Trunks asked.

"No." Vegeta stabbed the air with his fork. "Three weeks. No questions."

Trunks gave his father a wry smile. "Can't blame me for trying."

* * *

 _The father and his small child knelt before him on the muddy ground, shaking in terror. The man begged for his child's life, but Vegeta didn't even feel a small pang of sympathy. He strolled over and wrenched the child out of the man's arms, holding the kid in the air by the collar of its shirt. The child started bawling, and Vegeta stared at it curiously. No, he still didn't feel anything._

 _He snapped the child's neck sensing the life flood out of the kid instantly. When he dropped the body to the ground, the father scrambled over, screaming. The sound was not unlike the sound Vegeta had made when Kalyana lay dying in his arms. But still... No matter what he'd done since, he felt nothing._

 _He made to move towards the sobbing man, but Raditz stepped in and fired a ki blast, killing the man instantly._

 _"Was that necessary?" Raditz asked, looking ill. "Fuck, Vegeta. We don't play with our victims like Frieza. Just kill them and get it over with."_

 _Vegeta punched Raditz in the jaw, sending the taller Saiyan reeling back. "Don't tell me what to do."_

 _Raditz held his jaw, looking confused. "I know your girlfriend died, but you can't let that-"_

 _Raditz broke off as Vegeta flung himself at him, lashing out with a flurry of punches. Raditz held up his hands to protect his face. "Vegeta, please…"_

 _"I told you," Vegeta hissed. "I'm not your friend." Then he punched Raditz hard, knocking him out._

* * *

Vegeta found himself watching his son from the future when Trunks didn't know he was looking. _No attachments_ , he constantly reminded himself, but he knew it was too late.

The boy's mannerisms reminded him of Bulma. He stuck his tongue out slightly when concentrating, like her. He was doing right now, bent over a math equation with a deep frown etched onto his forehead. He wasn't saying anything at the moment, but when he started talking he would gesture, his hands getting wilder and wilder as his emotions grew, just like her too.

At the same time, Trunks was _unlike_ Bulma. He was so serious. Everything he said was deliberate. He thought through everything before speaking, something Vegeta recognised because he did it himself. Was it genetic, this introspection? Or was it merely a product of the world Trunks came from?

Vegeta wanted to ask Trunks what his mother was like. Did she spew out words like weapons, spilling them without thought of their consequences? Did she tuck her hair behind her ear when nervous? If he met her, would she be able to look into his eyes and _know_ him, like his Bulma seemed to be able to? And since when did he think of the woman as _his_?

Vegeta let out a breath of disgust at himself, then looked at the paper he'd been writing on. He realises how many errors there were in his calculations, and screwed up the paper into a little ball and tossed it to the other side of the room in frustration.

Trunks looked up, giving him the look of concern that he'd been wearing more and more often since waking him from that nightmare.

The pounding in his head erupted, making his vision swim, and Vegeta grit his teeth. He could feel his hand trembling, so he put them under the table in case Trunks spotted them. He'd been getting symptoms for weeks, but had been deluding himself into believing he was merely tired.

Vegeta closed his eyes. They still had a couple of months left. If he could get through it, his bloodlust could be honed into a weapon against Cell. Or it could cause him to lose his mind and kill his son. _Fucking fantastic_ , as Bulma liked to say.

When Vegeta opened his eyes, he could see again, although his head still felt like someone was sitting on it. He pulled out a new piece of paper and started again.

"Mom said you get headaches," Trunks said.

Vegeta growled in answer.

"She gave you medicine, didn't she? You should take it."

"I'm fine," Vegeta said through clenched teeth.

"I could get you your medicine if you tell me where it is."

"I said, I'm fine!" Vegeta stood up, slamming his palms on the table.

Trunks jumped and froze in his chair. His eyes darted about, obviously looking for an exit. "You don't…" Trunks cleared his throat. "You don't _look_ fine."

Vegeta held the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Yes, I have a headache, but it is not worth fussing over."

"Why do you need medicine then?" Trunks asked.

"None of your business," Vegeta grumbled.

"You owe me a question…" Trunks flashed him a wide grin.

"And you are going to waste it on that?"

When Trunks nodded, Vegeta groaned internally. Now the boy would be watching for any little symptom.

Vegeta sat back down at the table and leaned his elbows on it. "I showed some… restraint in killing when I was younger. They ran some experiments on me to eliminate that problem, but it came with some side effects."

Trunks eyes doubled in size and his mouth gaped open. "What do you mean, they eliminated the problem?"

Vegeta placed his head in his hands and rubbed his forehead. "They made it impossible for me to go long without killing." He lifted his head and looked at his son. "If I don't, I get headaches and I get this." He held up his hand, which shook slightly. "If I leave it for long enough, I also get hallucinations which are… unpleasant."

"When was the last time you…" Trunks flushed under his father's stare.

"Killed someone?" Vegeta gave a wry smile. "Before we entered here, it had been several months."

"Isn't it counterproductive?" Trunks asked. "Those symptoms seem like they would hinder your ability to fight."

Vegeta studied his hands, which had taken the lives of so many. "My senses become heightened. I can hear better, which ironically is what causes the headaches. My reflexes improve dramatically and it is as if I can feel everything around me instead of seeing it. In the middle of battle, all the side effects disappear. Once they'd finished studying the impact, I never had a problem with it until I came to Earth. I was killing on a regular enough basis for it not to get bad."

Trunks stayed silent for a while. He didn't look at Vegeta, but seemed focussed on the paper in front of him.

Vegeta throat went dry. He shouldn't care what the boy thought of him. This kid wasn't really his son. He was a replica from a world that didn't exist yet. But seeing the look of horror in Trunks eyes, and watching him clench and unclench his fists, probably considering what it meant to be spawn from a murder who had been genetically designed to kill… it made Vegeta feel as if something inside was on the verge of splitting open.

"How old were you?" Trunks asked, his voice cracking. He remained staring at his paper.

Vegeta mentally calculated it in Earth years. "They started when I was about eight. Nearly nine."

Trunks met his gaze then, his blue eyes shiny. "How could they do that to a child?"

Vegeta shrugged. "Age doesn't mean anything out there. Lives don't mean anything. They were monsters and they made sure I became one as well."

"You're not one," Trunks said fiercely. "I'm sorry I ever thought you were."

* * *

 _Frieza stood before him, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Ah, my little pet. You didn't really think having to kill your lover was your only punishment, did you?"_

 _Vegeta swallowed hard. It had been some time since Kalyana - long enough for his to start to believe Frieza was happy with the penalty of being forced to kill her. Of course, that was likely the lizard's plan._

 _At least Vegeta was feeling something now, even if it was fear._

 _"It was a favour, really," Frieza continued. "I was trying to help you. You don't need corrupting influences in your life, my Monkey Prince." He stepped forward with a sharp grin, and Vegeta had to fight the urge not to turn and run. "I'm afraid you do need to be punished for getting mixed up with the resistance. What would it look like if I gave you special treatment?"_

 _Vegeta pressed him lips together and didn't say anything as Frieza approached. Nothing he could say would stop what was coming. He maintained his military position, back straight, hands at his side, eyes dead ahead, not focussing on Frieza but on the wall behind him._

 _Frieza was now close enough for Vegeta to take a swing at him, but the Saiyan kept his hands forcefully relaxed. Vegeta sensed the movement before he saw it. The blow got him in the stomach, making him crumple to his knees with a gasp._

 _A hand grabbed his tail, unwrapping it from his waist. It was such an intimate thing to do for a Saiyan that Vegeta couldn't help but recoil. He tried to pull away, but Frieza used his other hand to wrap around Vegeta's throat and hold him to the ground._

 _When a heavy foot stomped on his tail, Vegeta grit his teeth to avoid crying out, tasting blood in his mouth from biting his tongue too hard._

 _Frieza loomed over him, still pinning him to the ground with the hand around his neck. The lizard's tail flicked back and forth, and when it flicked close to Vegeta's head, the prince flinched and Frieza laughed._

 _The purple creature reached out his other hand and touched Vegeta's cheek. "I am sorry. Believe it or not, this is harder for me than it is for you."_

 _Vegeta gagged and tried to pull away, but Frieza's hand around his neck tightened, cutting off his air supply._

 _With one finger, Frieza produced a small ball of ki. He drew it down Vegeta's chest like a knife, cutting through the prince's armour and piecing his skin._

 _Vegeta writhed in pain, unable to scream. He kicked and clawed at Frieza, trying to escape, but the lizard's face remained set in concentration as he finished his artwork, leaving a burning 'f' on the Saiyan's skin._

 _"You are mine," Frieza said, letting Vegeta go._

 _The prince rolled onto his side, sucking in air and clutching his throat with one hand and his chest with his other._

 _Frieza stood up, his eyes flashing triumphantly. "Don't forget that, little prince."_

* * *

Vegeta gasped as he woke up, sitting up suddenly in his bed feeling his neck for bruises. He could almost feel the monster's hands around him again.

The twisted sheets stuck to him, and he wrenched them off furiously. With every heartbeat, his head pounded, sending shots of pain through his brain. Vegeta groaned and opened the drawer next to his bed, then fumbled for the medication.

His hands trembled as he opened the bottle, nearly spilling out the pills. He tipped a few out into his hand - not bothering to count them - and swallowed them dry.

Breathing heavily, he lay back down, watching the digital clock reading three fifteen a.m. blink the seconds away.

 _Three more weeks_. Not much longer. He just had to get through the remaining time without losing his mind.


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

 _Vegeta glanced behind him as he entered the security room. He had ninety seconds before the next shift started and the cameras he'd carefully tampered with kicked back in._

 _Not a lot of time, but if Kalyana had made the time work, he could too. As quickly as he could, he pulled up the security footage from the night she'd got caught. He downloaded it all onto a drive, tapping his fingers impatiently on the desk as he waited. He yanked out the drive as soon as it was done and slipped out of the room, hearing the footsteps of the next guards shift approaching._

 _When he made it back to his room, which was thankfully free of the other Saiyans, he plugged in the drive and started scanning through the footage. Vegeta might not be able to avenge Kalyana by killing Frieza, at least at his current power level, but he could find anyone who had been responsible for her discovery and destroy them._

 _He started in the security room, whose footage in the ninety second window was on a continuous loop showing an empty room, just as Kalyana had planned it each time._

 _Whatever had gone wrong hadn't happened because of the cameras. Vegeta waited for the loop to end, then peered at the screen as it flashed, and looked like two people had appeared out of this air. The loop had ended and Kalyana was still in the room. Zarbon was with her, gripping her arm and saying something. Vegeta tried to make out his lip movements, but the angle wasn't ideal and since the footage didn't contain sound he could only speculate._

 _Of all people, why did it have to be Zarbon? Vegeta wasn't confident enough to take out him either. The green-skinned warrior would wipe the floor with Vegeta._

 _Cursing under his breath, Vegeta switched to the camera in the hall outside the security room and found the moment Zarbon entered the room. He started playing the footage backwards, switching from camera to camera in order to follow Zarbon through the ship. He'd only trawled through a few minutes of footage when he suddenly paused the footage, staring at the person talking to Zarbon._

 _Nappa._

* * *

"I can't wait to get out of here," Trunks said, stretching his arms out over his head. "This hasn't been nearly as awful as I thought it would be, but I'm getting claustrophobic."

"You mean to say you _weren't_ looking forward to spending a year locked away with a homicidal alien?" Vegeta smirked as he completed his kata and moved into the next one. Truth be told, even though the odd quiet of the chamber was likely the only reason his bloodlust hadn't escalated beyond his control, he was looking forward to leaving too. He'd spent his whole life moving from planet to planet, the stars his only constant. He wanted to fly as long and as far as he could when he got out of the chamber.

"I suppose there are worse people to spend a year with," Trunks said, starting a new kata in a smooth transition. "I was afraid you'd ignore me the whole time. I think you did for the first couple of months."

"I should have continued to do that," Vegeta muttered. "Now I can't get any peace."

"Not long now." Trunks sighed deeply as he brought his arms in a circle then pushed them out in front as if sending out a ki blast. "I'm running out of time, and I still have so many questions."

"The deal ends when we leave this chamber," Vegeta reminded him, throwing him a sharp look. "And if you tell _anyone_ in this time, including your mother, about _anything_ I've told you, I will hunt you down and murder you no matter what time you're in."

Trunks made a strange movement with his hand as if pulling something over his lips. Vegeta hadn't seen it before, but assumed it was Trunks' way of agreeing not to do anything that would force Vegeta to kill him.

"I'm owed a question today," Trunks said, as if he hadn't made Vegeta aware thanks to his heightened ki as soon as he woke up. "Are you ready? It's a good one…"

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "All your questions have been unimaginative at best."

Trunks just laughed. "Why do you hate Goku?" He kept his movements fluid - an impressive change from the mess his technique had been only a few months ago. "He's a nice guy. A Saiyan. Likes to fight. I would have thought you'd be friends with him."

"Friends!" Vegeta snorted and delivered some sharp kicks to the air. "That won't happen in this lifetime."

"Why not? What is it about Goku that you hate?"

Vegeta finished his kata in silence, contemplating his answer.

Trunks finished his kata as well, but instead of moving into the next one, he stopped and placed his hands on his hips. "Of all the questions I've asked you, I didn't think this would be a difficult one."

"I'm trying to decide if the question requires me to list all the reasons, or the primary one," Vegeta said, continuing to the next kata without a break.

"Why don't you list them off, then tell me which one if the biggest reason?" Trunks suggested, restarting his kata.

"Hm." Vegeta considered for a moment longer. "Firstly, I don't know that _hate_ is the right word. This is not my first language, but by the word's common definition, I hated Frieza. I do not feel the same way about Kakarot. But dislike isn't strong enough... Perhaps _despise_ is better."

"That's harsh. What has he done that is so… despicable?"

"Continued breathing?" Vegeta suggested, only half joking. He started listing things in time with each kata movement. "He is a Saiyan, but has no understanding or respect for our culture. He is also a moron whose most tactical thought is how to eat the most food in one sitting. He doesn't take anything seriously. He helped the Namekian kill Raditz. And every time I look at Kakarot I get an inexplicable urge to punch him in the face."

"Who's Raditz?" Trunks asked.

"Kakarot' brother. Also an idiot."

"I didn't know Goku had a brother," Trunks said. "Is that your biggest reason?"

"No," Vegeta replied. "Answer this for me. What is your biggest purpose in life? What is the one thing that gets you up, day after day in a world that seems to want you dead?"

Trunks appeared to think for a moment, his forehead crinkled in concentration as he kept up the graceful movements of his kata. "I want to get strong enough to defeat the androids. I get up every day, hoping that I'm a step closer to that."

"How would you feel if Kakarot took your time machine, went to your time, and defeated them for you?" Vegeta felt his ki rising in anger at the mere thought, and started taking deep, slow breaths as he moved through his routine. "Would you be happy the androids were gone?"

"Yes…" Trunks said with a frown.

"But?" Vegeta prompted, with a vague hope that Trunks would feel the same as him.

"But I would be disappointed. Goku hasn't been hurt by them, I was. They destroyed my world. The murdered my friend…" he stopped his kata midway through and looked at Vegeta. "They killed my father before I was old enough to remember him. If Goku asked permission to come and kill them for me, I would say no. It might be selfish, but it's my responsibility… my _right_." Trunks clenched his fists and looked at the ground. "I never thought about that before. I killed Frieza. Goku might have defeated on Namek him, but I killed him... You must hate me too."

"No." Vegeta stopped his own kata. "I do not hate - or despise - you."

Trunks didn't look convinced.

"I'm… glad it was you," Vegeta choked out, forcing words he would likely never admit to anyone else in the universe, simply because he couldn't stand the expression of remorse on his son's face. "Even if you didn't know what you were avenging, if it couldn't have been me, I'm glad it was you."

Trunks looked back up, his eyes shining.

Vegeta made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat. "Get back to work. All this sentimentality is making me ill."

Trunks gave him a sharp nod. "Yes, father."

The went back to their katas in silence, but Vegeta watched Trunks out of the corner of his eye. _Father_. Trunks rarely called him that, and the word sounded odd to his ears.

 _Father_. He was likely the worst parent this planet had ever seen, but… he didn't mind the word as much as he did a year ago.

* * *

 _Vegeta started to shake uncontrollably. The screen blurred in front of him and it felt like everything around him faded away._

 _Nappa. The man who'd protected Vegeta since he was a child. The one person for whom Vegeta's trust had never wavered._

 _His breaths came in short sharp gasps. He started pacing the small room, walking lengths back and forth and back and forth, willing the image on the screen to be different each time he looked at it._

 _How could he?_

 _The door glided open with a hiss and Vegeta stopped his pacing. Nappa walked in and dumped a bag on his bed, grumbling about pod malfunctions under his breath. When he finally looked at Vegeta, he froze._

 _"What's wrong?" Nappa asked, backing up towards the door._

 _Vegeta cocked his head and took in the larger man. Nappa was more than twice his size in both height and width, but Vegeta had been stronger than him for years. He could kill him. Frieza wouldn't care. No one would. Maybe Raditz, but he was probably in on it to._

 _"It was you." Vegeta's voice sounded odd, even to him. Like it was coming from someone else's mouth._

 _Nappa's eyes darted around the room and he inched towards the door again. "Listen, if this is about me eating your lunch the other day, I swear, I thought it was mine."_

 _"Why_ not _take my lunch?" Vegeta said, a dark laugh exploding out of him. "Or better yet, tell Zarbon where it is and let_ him _take it from me."_

 _Nappa's eyes widened, and Vegeta knew he'd figured it out._

 _"She… she was going to get you killed…" Nappa stammered. "I had to stop it before you were implicated. I didn't mean for-"_

 _"-For her to die?" Vegeta growled and clenched his fists. It would be so easy. A well placed ki blast and Nappa would be no more. "You knew that would happen. You_ hoped _it would."_

 _"I didn't mean for Frieza to think you were involved…" Nappa ran a hand over his bald head. "I didn't want you to have to do what you did."_

 _"And Raditz? Was he involved?"_

 _Nappa shook his head emphatically. "He wouldn't have gone along with it."_

 _Vegeta didn't believe him. He could never believe anything Nappa said again. The prince stared him down, pressing his lips together tightly to prevent himself from screaming and letting the entire ship know how he felt._

 _"Are you going to kill me?" Nappa asked quietly._

 _Vegeta closed his eyes briefly to steady himself. When he opened them again, he met Nappa's resigned gaze. "No," he said slowly. "Not yet. Death is too good for any of us, wouldn't you agree?"_

 _Nappa managed to look both relieved and concerned at the same time._

 _Vegeta smirked and narrowed his eyes. "But don't worry, one day I will. When you least expect it." He walked out of the room, pushing past Nappa on the way, already plotting how to make the other Saiyans' lives even more miserable than they already were._

* * *

Vegeta awoke abruptly, the rage he'd felt in his dream remaining. After some deep, calming breaths, his heart rate slowed, but the thudding in his head was still unbearable.

It was only one in the morning, but he knew he wasn't going back to sleep. After swallowing a couple of pills, he pulled on his training gear and ventured into the depths of the chamber. He didn't fly, or run. He merely kept walking for as long as he could, letting the white mist envelope him, its oppressive silence soothing to his sore head.

After a while, he stopped and sat down, cross legged on the tiles. He let his ki flow through him, pulsating with each breath in and out. His ki wanted to erupt - it itched just beneath his skin. He held it steady though, forcing himself to gently raise and lower it in the hope that if he could keep it under control, he could keep his symptoms steady.

It was the only way he knew to manage his bloodlust without killing. Vegeta had been controlled by Frieza his whole life, and even after death the purple lizard toyed with him. He _finally_ had something to hold onto in life, but he knew that once again because of Frieza it would eventually be lost to him.

* * *

"I have one question left," Trunks said, leaning on the kitchen bench and stealing a slice of buttered bread.

Vegeta grunted in response. He could hardly believe he'd stuck to his promise to answer every question, but he supposed that it didn't matter what he told this boy. In a few days, the kid would be gone from his life altogether. Hopefully because he was back in his own time, and not because Cell had killed them all.

"I want to know about the person you lost."

Vegeta flinched at the question. Hoping Trunks hadn't noticed, he added salt and pepper to the soup in the large pot in front of him and stirred it, giving him time to steady himself. "I've had many people taken from me," he said as casually as he could manage. "My planet was destroyed, remember?"

Trunks pressed his lips together and curled his hands around his coffee mug on the bench. "I know that. But there is someone specific you lost. Someone you cared deeply about."

"I don't care about anyone," Vegeta snapped. "I never have."

Trunks' face crumpled in disappointment. For a moment, Vegeta thought it was because he'd just implied he didn't care about Trunks. Then his son fixed his wide-eyed gaze on Vegeta. "You're lying. You've never lied before."

Vegeta gripped the wooden spoon in his hand so hard he heard it cracked.

"You _told_ me you'd hurt people you'd cared about, remember?" Trunks grinned and took a sip of his coffee before taking it over to the table and sitting in a chair. "I think there was one in particular. Who was it?" When Vegeta glared at him, he smiled even wider. "A girl? There was someone before my mother."

Vegeta flushed and stared at the soup. The vegetables bobbed up and down as it simmered. He was half tempted to tip it over Trunks' head and make a run for it. "Why do you think that?" he asked instead.

Trunks dropped his gaze to his coffee cup. "You've called out a name in your sleep a few times."

Vegeta set the broken spoon to the side and started serving it up. "What name?" He asked with the best air of indifference he could manage as he set Trunks' dinner in front of him.

"Kalana… Kalyana?" Trunks dipped his bread in the soup, then took a slurping bite of it.

Vegeta screwed his nose in disgust. "Do you not have manners in your time?" He sat down opposite Trunks and began eating as well.

"So, who was she, or… uh… he?" Trunks asked tentatively, ignoring Vegeta's reprimand.

Vegeta ate for a little while longer, contemplating how to answer the question. He hadn't talked about her to anyone since she'd died. " _She_ was a warrior," he said slowly. "And the princess of Jalak."

Trunks stayed silent, watching Vegeta with unblinking eyes as he continued to eat his soup.

"I met her older brother after a mission that went about as wrong as it could. The three of us became… friends I suppose. Like me, both Elrik and Kalyana were recruited by Frieza from a young age. They, however, still had their planet." Vegeta frowned, wondering what the least amount of detail was that he could give while still answering truthfully. "I would have done anything for her. She was involved with the resistance - a group attempting to take down Frieza from the inside. I helped her get access to Frieza's base, I answered whatever questions she asked…"

"You loved her," Trunks said.

"I was careless," Vegeta corrected. "And so was she. Kalyana got caught. She did her best to avoid implicating me, even going as far as stabbing and poisoning me, but Frieza wasn't convinced."

"Frieza didn't kill you though," Trunks said. "You survived."

"Obviously," Vegeta said. "Otherwise you wouldn't not exist."

Trunks laughed and shrugged. "Lucky for me then. How did you convince Frieza to let you live?"

Vegeta concentrated on his soup, stirring it slowly. "Frieza told me to kill her. If I didn't, we'd both be killed by him, and it wouldn't have been quick."

Trunks dropped his spoon in his soup. "You killed her?"

Vegeta cocked his head and met his son's gaze. Maybe now the boy would understand what kind of person he was. "Ki blast to the heart."

Trunks blinked rapidly. "But… how… how could you do that?"

A roaring entered Vegeta's head at his son's words. The blood pumped through him, beat by beat, surging through his veins. He should have been _glad_ that Trunks understood what kind of man he was, but a part of him - a bigger part than he'd realised - had desperately hoped Trunks wouldn't feel any different about him once he learned of the worst thing Vegeta had ever done.

Vegeta stood up rapidly. "The same way I purged planets, killing billions of people." He slammed his palms on the table, sloshing soup out of the bowl. "The same way I killed my mentor or was reprehensibly cruel to someone who called me a friend."

 _How could you do that?_ He asked himself that every day, wondering just how twisted he really was to have been able to kill her.

Vegeta looked at his son, who stared back with an unreadable expression, and felt as if any hope he'd gained over the last year had just been lost. "The _same_ way I will leave this planet without looking back when Cell is dead. I do whatever I must to survive. No matter the cost."

* * *

 **A/N: I _may_ be putting Vegeta through an emotional wringer with this story... I feel a little bad for dragging him through all this (#sorrynotsorry), but I also feel for Trunks for having to deal with his father's mood swings all the time!**


	42. Chapter 42

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

His father left the living quarters so quickly, Trunks didn't have time to process what he'd been told. Vegeta just stomped out and disappeared into the white mist.

Trunks stayed where he was, seated at the dining table he and his father had had so many conversations at. Vegeta had been forced to kill his girlfriend. No wonder the man was a little unstable. Trunks couldn't imagine the strength of will it had to have taken to kill someone he loved to spare them a slow and painful death. And it would have been painful, if Frieza had anything to do with it.

It must have been years ago. Vegeta had told him he spent time on Jalak when he was a little older than Trunks. But no matter how long ago it was, killing the woman you loved would be a sore spot for anyone.

Still, Vegeta seemed genuinely upset. Most of the time his emotions were limited to frustration or anger - at least as far as Trunks could tell. But this time, behind the anger in his last words he'd given Trunks a look of complete devastation.

Deciding that for once leaving his father to brood wouldn't be a good idea, Trunks ventured into the mist. He tracked his father's ki, following deeper into the chamber than he'd ever been.

The air was hard to breath. It felt almost sticky, like the air was lining his windpipe instead of flowing down it. Still, Trunks ploughed on until he saw his father.

Vegeta stood still, head bowed and fists clenched. When Trunks came up to him, he looked up with flashing eyes, but didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry," Trunks said, putting his hands out in front of him. "I shouldn't have asked that question… I didn't realise…"

"No, you shouldn't have," Vegeta replied, his voice oddly hollow. The Saiyan prince moved into a fighting stance, then raised his eyebrows in an expression Trunks recognised as an invitation to attack.

Since fighting seemed to be his father's way of resolving things, Trunks did the same, then leapt forward.

Vegeta dodged Trunks' attack neatly, retaliating with a powerful kick that was delivered with cold precision to Trunks' side.

Trunks gasped at the impact, but drove forward again, nearly landing a punch, but only grazing his father's shoulder. Vegeta attacked with brutal efficiency, blocking every one of Trunks' attacks, while landing almost every one of his punches and kicks.

Trunks let his father's latest kick send him backwards, just to escape the onslaught. Vegeta had never fought with this much precision, or this much pure force before. "You've been holding back," Trunks gasped out. Not in power necessarily, although that was possible, but in technique his father was vicious and he'd never fought like this when he and Trunks were training.

Vegeta bared his teeth and shrugged. "I told you. Heightened senses."

He made to attack again, and Trunks, suddenly terrified by the calculation in his father's black eyes, released a ki blast in response.

Going Super Saiyan was normally their signal to start using ki, but both were still in their normal state. Vegeta blocked the ki and turned Super Saiyan immediately with a furious yell, before attacking again.

Trunks turned Super Saiyan as well, just before Vegeta's ki attack hit him. It hit his head on, and he barely managed to block it with his arms. The force sent him rocketing back, and when the ki dissipated, Vegeta was right in front of him, throwing a punch.

Realising he was going to have to up his game, Trunks grabbed the arm Vegeta swung with and used the momentum of his father's force to fling himself out of the way and land a kick to Vegeta's side.

Vegeta grunted at the impact, but sent an uppercut to Trunks' jaw that sent him sprawling backwards. Cursing under his breath, Trunks launched himself back on his feet and flew towards his father. "Why are you angry at me?" Trunks yelled, finally landing a punch, even if the strength of it wasn't enough to budge Vegeta.

"I'm _not_." Vegeta growled and landed a sharp hit on Trunks' shoulder.

He wasn't, Trunks realised as he fought back. Vegeta wasn't angry. He was… hurt? Not physically of course, but emotionally… Trunks still struggled to recognise Vegeta's expressions, but he knew him well enough now to realise Vegeta felt Trunks had said or done something to offend him.

Trunks racked is brain trying to remember what he'd said.

 _How could you do that?_

Trunks swore to himself as he realised what he'd said. He hadn't meant it like _that_. But did Vegeta really care what Trunks thought of him? He was so indifferent and aloof most of the time. The closest he'd come to saying he cared about Trunks was telling him that he didn't despise him.

He did care, Trunks realised as Vegeta swooped in with a furious punch to the gut that sent Trunks falling to the ground, winded. He cared, and he probably hated that fact and was dealing with it the only way he knew how.

"It wasn't your fault!" Trunks cried out as he flew back at his father and fought back with renewed energy. Vegeta either didn't hear, or didn't consider Trunks' words to be worth replying to. His only response was to hit even harder.

If he was going to make his father listen, Trunks would have to do exactly what Vegeta had taught him - take advantage of his father's weaknesses and exploit them until Vegeta didn't have any choice but to listen.

"Is that all you've got, old man?" Trunks taunted, dodging out of the way of Vegeta's incoming fist. "You are going to have to do better than that."

As Trunks predicted, Vegeta's fury only increased, and it made him react faster without thinking it through. Trunks managed to keep up blocking Vegeta's hits and provoking his attacks. Trunks could only hope that he didn't tire before he got a chance to take Vegeta down, because Vegeta wasn't sparring. He was going in for the kill.

Finally, Trunks' chance came. He pretended to be more hurt than he was and lay on the tiles, clutching his side and lowering his ki slightly. When Vegeta approached, Trunks sent a ki blast directly at him, sending Vegeta flying back. Before his father could recover, Trunks leapt on him and pinned him to the ground with a flurry of blows.

"What happened with the princess…" he managed to get out in between hits. "It was Frieza. It was all Frieza. You didn't have a choice."

Vegeta threw Trunks off and stood up, but when he stepped forward, his left knee buckled. "There is always a choice."

Trunks flew at Vegeta again, knocking him back down. "The other choice you had was even worse," Trunks said, blocking a hit from Vegeta. He started hitting back. "It's not… your… fault."

Vegeta managed to throw Trunks off, sending him skidding away. Trunks braced himself for another attack, but Vegeta stayed where he was, on the ground on his hands and knees, breathing heavily. He looked at Trunks with no expression, but changed out of his Super Saiyan form.

As Vegeta dropped his gaze to the ground, Trunks went back to his normal state as well. Vegeta let out a groan and lay down on the tiles, rolling onto his back. He shut his eyes and lay still on the shattered tiles, even his chest barely moving.

"I get why you did it," Trunks said slowly. "Frieza would have… I can't imagine what Frieza would have done to her if you hadn't." Trunks broke off with a sigh and hauled himself over to sit closer to Vegeta. "I don't think I would be strong enough to do that. If the androids had my mother and threatened to do to her what Frieza would have done… I don't know what I would do."

Vegeta dragged himself to a sitting position and stared at the ground. "You would have made a better choice."

"No." Trunks shook his head. "I would have made the _wrong_ choice and she would have died in excruciating pain. And then I'd be dead too."

Vegeta looked up then, fixing the black depths of his gaze on Trunks. "I think you broke my ribs. You are going to destroy those androids when you get back."

Trunks grinned at the thought. "I've been so focussed of killing them that I have no idea what I'll do after."

"Hm." Vegeta exhaled loudly. "I know the feeling."

* * *

"You're back." Bulma eyed the Saiyan warily in the mirror's reflection as she continued to brush her hair. Trunks had returned that morning, sans Vegeta and had merely shrugged when asked about his father's whereabouts.

Vegeta stopped leaning on her balcony doorway and stepped inside. He glanced around the room as if staking out and enemy, and Bulma realised he hadn't been in here since he'd left for space.

"How was it?" She asked, putting down the brush and turning to face him.

Vegeta grunted and gave her a small shrug which could have meant literally anything. He sat down on the end of her bed, perching on the very edge as if he would leap up and flee at any moment.

Bulma tilted her head back and closed her eyes, wishing to Kami that she understood this man. When she looked at him again, he hadn't moved, and his unblinking stare focussed on her.

"Trunks didn't say much either," she said.

No matter how many questions she'd asked, her future son had only answered in one word answers. _How was it?_ Okay. _How was your father?_ Fine. _Did you two talk?_ Yes. _What about?_ Fighting.

She'd caught a little smirk from Trunks at his 'yes' answer to her question about them talking. It made her realise just how much her son looked like his father. In the end, she'd given up asking questions. Trunks seemed well, and he'd even lost a little of the sadness in his eyes. That told her everything she needed to know.

Bulma moved to sit down next to Vegeta on the bed. He smelled of soap, his hair was slightly damp, and his black t-shirt clung devilishly to his muscles. When she gently leaned on him, he didn't pull away.

"Are you still angry at me?" She asked quietly.

Vegeta turned his head to look at her and reached out a hand to touch her hair. It was oddly intimate for him and when he stroked her cheek with a finger she shivered. "No," he said gruffly. He leaned in and kissed her, his lips warm and intoxicating. Bulma melted into him, moaning in the back of her throat as his hands slid down the material of her silk dressing gown.

"Are _you_ still angry at me?" He murmured, tilting to kiss the place where her collarbone met her shoulder.

"I… uh…" Bulma found herself unable to think as he trailed slow, hot kisses across her shoulder towards her neck, and traced he thigh with his hand, slipping it under her gown onto her bare skin and creeping higher… and higher…

"Are you still leaving after Cell?" She managed to gasp out.

Vegeta pulled back, a frown on his face. "Yes."

Bulma sighed in disappointment then shoved his chest. "Then I'm still angry."

The push didn't budge him of course, but Vegeta's frown deepened. He didn't say anything though, and merely untangled his arms from her body.

"I'd hoped spending time with Trunks would change your mind," Bulma admitted.

"It made my decision even clearer." Vegeta's shoulders tensed as he spoke, as if the words were physically painful for him. "You did a sufficient job raising him without me. My presence is not required."

"My boy needs a father!" Bulma cried. "He needs someone to teach him about his Saiyan culture. Someone to train him. He needs _you_."

"The further I am away, the safer you and the kid will be." Vegeta's dark eyes flashed with a haunted look that reminded Bulma of the night Vegeta had been ill.

"You think we will be safer here without you to protect us?" Bulma raised her eyebrows. "I'm human. Trunks is an infant."

"You will be safer without me. Death follows me around. I'll never-" he broke off suddenly and buried his head in his hands, rubbing his forehead. "I'll never escape it."

Bulma tentatively placed her hand on Vegeta's back. "I can help you. I can find you a cure."

"I could kill you both!" Vegeta dropped his hands and clenched them. "I came close to killing the boy in the chamber."

Bulma flinched at that. Trunks hadn't given any indication of that. "How did you stop yourself?"

"I didn't." Vegeta stared straight ahead. "The brat beat some sense into me."

Bulma's shoulders sagged and she let out a deep sigh. "I wish I could do that." She would beat him until her body gave out if she thought it would do the stubborn man any good.

"Everywhere I go, people die and I'm… I don't want the next person to be you."

"Everyone dies, Vegeta." Bulma stood up, hearing the baby monitor crackle as Trunks started to stir. She walked to the door, glancing back over her shoulder at him. "Maybe you should start thinking about how to _live_ instead."

* * *

 **A/N: A few people have mentioned Vegeta and PTSD. Thank you for all your thoughts and comments on the matter. He may well have PTSD. I am not a psychologist and I'm therefore reluctant to label Vegeta with anything. I don't think he'd appreciate being labeled anyway! I've tried to write what I know based on my own experiences and some research, but my own struggles are far less severe than his. I can only attempt to do justice to what he would be going through psychologically.**


	43. Chapter 43

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

He desperately wanted to live a life free of this curse. If he could, he would stay on Earth for the woman and the boy. They were _his_ , damn it, and he knew that leaving meant Frieza had won yet again.

Vegeta ignored Cell's suggestion to let him become stronger at first, enjoying battering the green creature around far too much. But it planted a seed that he couldn't ignore. As the bloodlust grew, pulsating through his veins and making his ki crackle with a force that sang with every blow, Vegeta started to consider it.

He'd discovered over the years that the bloodlust's return was slowed by either killing more people, or by defeating someone who was a serious challenge. What if letting Cell gain more power and then defeating him would be a big enough kill for him to go _years_ without the bloodlust?

Strategically, the idea went against all Vegeta's tactics. The chances of it giving him an extended amount of time were slim, and if Cell grew stronger than him, it would all be for nothing.

But what if it did work?

* * *

How was it possible that every choice he'd ever made was the wrong one? And not only the _wrong_ one, but the one that would lead to the most amount of destruction?

Vegeta cursed both himself and the universe in every language he knew.

It didn't help.

* * *

The boy lay still, not a twitch coming from his body. Blood seeped from the wound in his chest and spread over the brown dirt, soaking into the ground in a muddy red puddle.

Vegeta recognised the lack of life instantly - he'd been the cause of it often enough. He froze where he stood, unable to tear his gaze away from the broken body that was his son.

The sounds of battle faded away. He couldn't hear anything but his own heart, thudding quickly, as if to make up for Trunks' missing beats. He couldn't see anything, even when he closed his eyes, except the twisted grimace on the boy's face. But it was the smell that broke him - the unmistakably metallic, slightly acrid scent of blood that permeated the air.

He'd once bathed in that smell almost daily, plucking away lives like Earthling picked flowers. Once, like Cell, _he_ was the monster, determined to destroy, to obliterate, to kill.

The hole in his son's chest, the one perfectly formed by a ki blast, was Vegeta's karma. He'd killed Kalyana with a similar blast, and now his son had been taken from him in the same way.

The ki he'd so desperately been attempting to control these last few months began to bubble under his skin. His entire body trembled with the force of it, and his shallow gasps barely contained enough oxygen to keep him upright. He let it explode with a scream and flung himself towards Cell, powering up ki blasts with every last drop of his energy.

* * *

 **A/N: Just a short chapter to cover the events of the battle of Cell, but I put out two in one day, so hopefully you don't mind! It felt quite separate from the one before and the coming up.**


	44. Chapter 44

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

Morbid curiosity brought him to the small house in the country. He landed in a field of damp grass as the moon peeked behind fluffy grey clouds. A cacophony of insects and other night creatures filled the night, overtaken only by the occasional raised sob coming from the cottage.

He could feel Kakarot's woman's ki spiking with each of her cries. The haunting sounds made the vaguely nauseous feeling at the pit of his stomach twist. He sank to his knees, squelching into the soft terrain. Gohan's ki twitched with each of his mother's wails, his signature swimming in both anger and fear.

Another ki signature resided in the house, similar to Gohan's. Kakarot's woman was far along enough for Vegeta to spot it without directly feeling for it. Kakarot must have known his wife's condition.

Did that spur his decision? And did he know that this would be the result - a devastated wife facing the prospect of raising two children alone, and an angry pre-pubescent son who would have no father to guide him through the most difficult time in a Saiyan's life?

Vegeta took off his gloves, still stained with mud and blood from battle, then placed his bare hands on the cool grass to steady himself. He had no right to judge the other Saiyan's choice. Kakarot's decision to leave Earth was exactly what Vegeta had planned to do, right up until the moment he'd seen Cell shoot a hole through his son's heart.

But Vegeta hadn't wanted to leave to keep Earth safe. Earth could be eviscerated and he wouldn't care. No, his own decision to leave was born out of selfishness. He wanted to keep the woman and child safe, that was true, but more than anything else he didn't want to be responsible for their deaths. He'd caused enough damage to the people he cared about, and the idea of hurting them was unbearable.

But when he'd seen his son die before his eyes, he realised that preventing himself from being responsible wasn't enough. The mere idea of either of them coming to harm sent a flood of emotions through Vegeta that he didn't know existed. Anyone could come along at any moment and snatch away the lives of his woman and child. If he left them on Earth alone, unable to defend themselves, was he any less responsible?

* * *

It wasn't until Trunks had died and come back to life that he realised of all the questions he'd come up with for his father, he'd never asked him what dying was like. Or returning for that matter.

Turned out, both sucked.

After returning to Capsule Corp and breaking the news of Goku's decision to his mother, Trunks had escaped to his room as soon as he could – which hadn't been until the evening. He would be going home in the morning, but in the meantime he didn't know what to do with himself. Feeling twitchy and on edge, he sat on the end of his bed and buried his head in his hands, sucking in deep, slow breaths and bouncing his knee up and down. He couldn't stop thinking about the moment of his death. It had been both painful and petrifying. All he'd been able to think about in his last moments was that his world would never be saved.

Being wished back changed that of course, but he felt like he hadn't _quite_ returned yet - like his mind was still partially floating in the afterlife, trying to catch up with his physical body. Dying was obviously the worse of the two, but he felt disoriented… almost weightless.

Had Vegeta felt like this after Namek too? Trunks reached out with his mind, trying to find his father's ki. He hadn't seen Vegeta since he'd returned and had been disappointed not to see him on the lookout. Surprisingly, Vegeta was on Capsule Corp grounds. Up on the roof, it felt like.

Had Vegeta really gone ballistic at Cell after seeing him dead? Yamcha was obvious in his dislike of Vegeta, so it didn't seem like the kind of thing he'd make up. Trunks couldn't help a grin at the idea of Vegeta throwing aside his pride and attacking Cell, even though it would have made the fact he cared for Trunks obvious to all the Z fighters. After spending a year with his father, he knew enough about him to understand that a reaction like that had to mean something.

Trunks slipped out his balcony door and went find his father. As he'd sensed, Vegeta was on the curved roof of Capsule Corp's largest building. He sat with one arm resting on his bent knee, and appeared to be scanning the stars. He hadn't changed out of his battle suit, although he'd discarded his armour and gloves. Mud and traces of blood smeared his skin and the suit, and Trunks could tell from his ki that he hadn't received any treatment for his injuries.

Trunks landed beside his father, who didn't acknowledge his presence. Taking the lack of instruction to leave as permission to stay, Trunks sat down beside him.

The stars weren't bright due to the full moon, and Trunks couldn't tell which one his father was looking at. Maybe he wasn't looking at one in particular, but the stars in general. Trunks' heart sank. He was probably planning where to go next.

Vegeta let out all their air in his lungs with a huff and glanced at Trunks. "That battle was…" he frowned and waved his hand in a circle. "A _gurishalya_."

Trunks raised his eyebrows at the foreign word. "A gur… what?"

"A fucking mess," Vegeta muttered.

Trunks let out a small laugh. "Yeah, tell me about it. Everything worked out in the end though. Well, almost everything."

Vegeta shrugged at that, and turned back to the sky.

"When you got wished back, did you feel…" Trunks struggled to put a word to it. "…different?"

Vegeta crinkled his nose. "Yes."

"I'm glad I'm back, but I keep feeling like… like…" Trunks exhaled in exasperation.

"Like the ground is about to slide out from under you," Vegeta said quietly.

"Yeah." Trunks drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. "Does it go away?"

"Eventually. Or maybe I got used to it."

They stayed in silence for a while, the brisk wind chilling Trunks. He didn't mind though. At least he felt alive.

Vegeta broke the silence first. "Do you-" His breath caught and he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he stared directly ahead. "Do you think Kakarot made the right decision?"

Trunks wondered how Vegeta had found out about Goku's refusal to come home. He hadn't sensed him at the lookout when he'd been wished back, but he supposed his father could have easily been suppressing his ki. Trunks considered the question. "It was a… noble choice I suppose." Goku had seemed almost excited by the prospect of a new adventure, and if the idea of leaving his wife and child behind bothered him, his tone of voice hadn't shown more than surface regret. "I don't think making a decision for the greater good is necessarily always the right one though."

Vegeta's expression didn't change at his words, but Trunks could tell from the slightly tightening of his shoulders that he was listening.

"Growing up without a father was hard for both me and Gohan," Trunks continued. "Gohan did his best to show me what being a Saiyan meant, but he was just as clueless as me. The idea that this Gohan has to grow up without a father in this time as well… it's not fair."

"Nothing in life is fair," Vegeta replied quietly. He put his hands in front of him, turning them to look at his palms. "I've destroyed almost everything I've touched. I've caused so much pain to so many people. How is it fair that I have the chance of a normal life?"

"Maybe it isn't fair," Trunks said. He knew he'd only scratched the surface of understanding his father and what he'd done in his life. "But the infant version of me in the building below us deserves a normal life. Will you really take that away from him because you don't think, even after everything Frieza put you through, that you have the right to be happy?"

"I don't know how to be…"

"Normal?" Trunks ventured when Vegeta trailed off and gave no sign of continuing.

"All of it. Normal. Happy. A _father_."

Trunks chuckled. "You're already a father. You managed a year of it with a teenager. By the time the son sitting in the building below us gets to that point you'll be a pro."

"Prince Vegeta, destroyer of planets, harbinger of death, and father of the year. There's a certain ring to it." Vegeta shook his head, then made to stand up, wincing as he did so.

Trunks didn't offer him help, knowing he wouldn't take it anyway, but watched him carefully, noting the deep gash on his leg and the way he avoided putting weight on his left arm.

"I don't have your confidence in my parental abilities," Vegeta said once he'd got to his feet. He tilted his head to the sky. "But I'm glad you came to this timeline."

He launched into the sky then, disappearing into the dark night.

Trunks smiled to himself and remained gazing at the stars his father had come from.

* * *

Her sobs were not like Kakarot's wife. They were softer, more rhythmic, as if she wasn't even conscious she was crying. Maybe she wasn't. Her ki level and the regularity of her breathing indicated she was at least partially asleep.

She'd left her balcony door open a crack - and invitation for him, he was sure. Dawn would break in a couple of hours, and if he'd been less self-involved he would have returned sooner. He'd been so involved in his brooding that he hadn't thought about the fact that Bulma had just lost her best friend.

Vegeta lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching her shadowy form. He still hadn't showered, or washed off his battle grime and he had multiple wounds that needed attending to. Every muscle hurt, and his head could well explode at any moment. None of that mattered though, because even though an hour ago he'd needed the open air and the emptiness of the sky, right now he needed to feel her presence.

He crept inside stealthily, then set himself down in a chair beside her bed. She didn't stir, so he rested back in their chair and closed his eyes, attempting to will the pounding in his head away.

"Come to bed," Bulma murmured.

He stayed where he was, feeling physically unable to move. "I'll get blood on your sheets," he replied drowsily.

There was a click, and warm light flooded the room. Vegeta grimaced and covered his eyes.

Cool hands found his forehead then he felt the press of her lips against his. He pulled his hand away from his eyes, keeping them closed to avoid the light, then kissed her back.

"You're a mess," she whispered as she pulled away. "Come with me."

He opened his eyes and looked at her then, taking in her tear-streaked face and wondering selfishly if she'd cried like that when he had died, in the other timeline.

She tugged on his hand, forcing him up, and when his leg buckled as he walked she wrapped his arm around his waist. He could have made it by himself, but he let her fuss, let himself lean on her a little as they moved towards her bathroom.

She helped him strip down with surprising efficiency, then had him in the warm water. "Rinse off all the dirt," she commanded. "I'll be back."

He did as she said, ignoring the sting of water running through his wounds as he let the dirt and blood drain away. When she came back, clothes and a large first aid kit in hand, he stepped out and dried off, then pulled on boxers she handed to him.

"Sit." She pointed out of the bathroom and towards her bed.

Following her orders, he sat on her bed then let her dress and bandage his wounds. She scowled when she saw the one on his leg. "Remind me to check this tomorrow. If it hasn't started healing you should get stitches."

She tossed him his pants and t-shirt and he pulled them on wearily. When she climbed back into bed then patted the sheet beside her, he climbed in as well, falling against the pillow hard and letting her curl up against him. He pulled her closer and buried his head in her hair, his throat choking up as he realised how close he'd come to being the reason for her world's destruction.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "It was my fault Cell got that strong. It's because of me that Trunks and Kakarot died."

"Goku _chose_ not to come back." Bulma sniffed and Vegeta felt her move to wipe her eyes. "He did exactly what you said you would do - leave his family to keep them safe. I'm terrified you're going to make the same decision."

"I _should_ leave." They'd be better off without him. Despite what Trunks told him, he knew that as a father he'd do little more than wreck his own child's life. "Every choice I make brings death. My father wouldn't have died if he hadn't been trying to rescue _me_. Kalyana wouldn't have been caught if I hadn't given her access to the base…" The words came flossing out and he could stop them or the hot, salty moisture coming from his eyes. "And then _I_ killed her. And if I had killed Cell when I had the chance instead of letting a stupid challenge get the best of me, Trunks wouldn't have died. It's all… it's all…" His voice cracked and he took a few shaky breaths.

"Don't think like that," Bulma whispered fiercely, running her hands through his hair. "We don't walk through life alone. Others make choices too, and we all impact each other. Stay with me. Stay with your son."

Vegeta sighed and didn't reply. He shut his eyes and let Bulma stroke his head and lull him into sleep. He knew he shouldn't take the risk, but he was so tired… so bone weary… he drifted off into the first dreamless sleep in a long time.

* * *

He couldn't see his father. The rest of the Z fighters came to see him off, crowding around him to offer their goodbyes, but Vegeta was nowhere to be seen. Trunks felt a pang of disappointment, even though they'd said all they needed to last night.

Trunks sensed his ki just as he was about to board. His father leaned against a tree, shaded by the leaves. He wore neatly ironed slacks and his arms crossed against a button up shirt. He looked so oddly _human_ that Trunks nearly laughed aloud.

Vegeta didn't come over, or say a word. He had dark circles around his eyes, and even though he looked like he'd had treatment for his injuries, the way he leaned against the tree indicated it was because he needed the support, rather than because he was relaxing against the trunk.

Trunks didn't mind the lack of a goodbye in front of everyone. The fact that he'd shown up was enough. When Vegeta raised his hard in a subtle farewell, Trunks did the same, grinning broadly.

Then that timeline disappeared, and the time machine hurtled Trunks back to his own time. When he landed, and saw Capsule Corp's building crumbling before him, Trunks smiled even wider. It wasn't as pristine as the timeline he'd helped save, but he was home.

* * *

"What was it like?" His mother tucked her greying hair behind her ear then leaned closer over the table. "What did you think of your father?"

"It was odd seeing _you_ so young." Trunks flushed as he spoke. "You kept flirting with me - it was the most embarrassing thing you have ever done in my entire life."

Bulma tipped her head back and laughed. "Oh no! I'm so sorry. I was a little boy crazy back then."

"Father was… intimidating. Downright terrifying at times. I didn't like him at first - I didn't know how to act around him and he made a point of ignoring me." Trunks curled his hands around his coffee mug and stared at the hot steam swirling off it. "And I know it's silly, but I wasn't expecting him to be so… alien."

Bulma laughed at that. "Those eyes, huh."

"Yeah! Even the way he moved and spoke seemed strange."

"Did you manage to get more than three words out of him?" Bulma took a sip of her own coffee, then chuckled as she set it back down on the table. "He always took the strong, silent type to a whole new level."

"Eventually," Trunks said with a small smile. "He told me a lot actually. About his home, and what it was like working for Frieza. I thought he was cold and unfeeling when I met him, but he's not. He just hides it well. What he'd been through… I don't think anyone else in the universe could get through what he did."

"Really?" Bulma raised her eyebrows. "He barely told me anything about his past." She sighed sadly. He'd only just started to open up when…" she spread her hands in front of her with a shrug.

Trunks thought for a moment, then smirked. "He told me not to tell anyone in _his_ time what we spoke about."

"So, this time doesn't count." Bulma grinned back at him. "Tell me everything."

* * *

Vegeta rifled through the kitchen cupboard desperately, unable to see what he was looking for thanks to the dancing lights in front of his eyes. As a wave a pain washed across his forehead, he slumped to the ground with a groan, letting his head rest on the cool tiles.

Time blurred, and he had no idea how long he lay there before he heard footsteps.

"What are you…" Bulma gasped and he felt her fingers patting his face. "Headache?" She asked.

He could only whimper in reply.

Moments later he felt two pills being pushed into one hand, and a cold glass of water pushed into the other. Hands trembling, he took the medication, spilling half the water. Bulma shifted and pulled his head on her lap and they sat on the kitchen floor. He counted each of his breaths, waiting for the pain to subside, while she gently massaged his forehead.

When Vegeta opened his eyes again and realised he could make out more than blurry shapes, he sat up, the movement making his head jar momentarily. He leaned against the cupboard door, then looked at Bulma.

"Fighting Cell didn't help?" She reached up and put the back of her hand to his head. "You feel a little warmer than usual."

"Fighting doesn't help unless it ends with me ending a life." Vegeta shut his eyes again as every word he spoke rattled around in his skull.

Bulma got up, and when she returned he felt something in his lap. He cracked open his eyes to see an Earthling newspaper, folded to a particular article.

"Whether you stay or go, you need to stop your symptoms first." Bulma stood in front of him, her hands on her hips. "You can't travel like this and I know you don't want to put us in danger. So, do what you must. No ki - I don't want any of the other's sensing it."

Then she left him, sitting on the floor and wondering exactly what his life had come to.

When he read the article title, _Red Dress Killer Strikes Again - Fifth Body Found,_ a dark smile crept onto his face.


	45. Chapter 45

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

"Before you go all Dexter on me, I want your blood," Bulma said, not looking up from her microscope.

She knew it was Vegeta who had just walked in despite him not making a sound - or rather, because of it. No one else but her father's cat entered a room as quietly as he did. It was odd how she could feel his presence without any other indication he was there. Maybe she'd learnt to detect ki and hadn't noticed until now.

"I do not know what a 'dexter' is, but I need your whiteboard," Vegeta responded.

Bulma looked up from her microscope at Vegeta, who was already taking it off the wall. "Hold on! Let me at least take a photo of what's on it." She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture, getting Vegeta's irritated face in it. It might have been the only picture she had of him, she realised as she put her phone away.

Vegeta set the board down by the door, then hovered in the middle of the room.

"Sit." Bulma pointed to the spare office chair then started getting her equipment ready.

When she pulled out the needle, which was a lot nastier than one she would have used on a human, Vegeta watched calmly as she prepped it. She inserted it into a vein on his arm, wincing herself at the size of the needle breaking his skin, but he didn't flinch, and just studied the whole process carefully.

Bulma put a bright pink plaster on the needle mark on his arm. "All done."

Vegeta raised his eyebrows at the plaster, but didn't take it off. He stood up, then collected the whiteboard.

"Don't you want to know what I need your blood for?" Bulma asked in amusement.

Vegeta shrugged, juggling the whiteboard up and down with his action. "You want my blood while I'm showing symptoms. Then you will test another sample of my blood after."

"Oh. Yeah." Bulma grinned at him. Of course he'd figured it out. "You've had to do these kind of tests a lot, huh?"

"More than I would like," Vegeta said.

"If you find the killer, how long will it give you before you get symptoms again?"

Vegeta frowned over the large board. "Likely less than a month. Two if I'm lucky and they prove to be a challenge."

"If you stay afterwards, I will find a way to stop them coming back at all," Bulma said, watching his face for any sign of agreement.

Vegeta's expression didn't slip. He stood where he was, watching her silently, his gaze unblinking.

"You'll stay and let me try?" Bulma asked, desperate for him to agree.

"Why else would I donate my blood?" Vegeta said before slipping out of the room as quietly as he'd entered.

* * *

"I need more information on something," Vegeta said to Mrs Briefs. "Does this planet have an information gathering system for news events?"

Mrs Briefs frowned over the creamy sauce as she stirred. It smelt incredible and Vegeta took note of the ingredients she was adding to try it himself later. She had chopped up a small grass-like dark plant he'd seen growing in the garden, and now sprinkled it into the sauce.

"Do you mean a newspaper?" She asked.

Vegeta huffed in frustration. "I have one of those. I need more information on a particular article."

"Oh, you need access to the internet. Go get the tablet I gave you for reading books, dear. I'll show you how to connect."

Vegeta blinked in surprise. Could it be that easy? He went and fetched the tablet from his room, then handed it to Mrs Briefs.

"Keep stirring the sauce for me, would you?" She handed him the wooden spoon, and he obliged, taking in the heavenly scent as he did so.

Mrs Briefs started tapping away on the tablet, then motioned him over. "The sauce will be okay for a minute while I show you. Now, you type in words related to what you are looking for here, and then click search." She showed him how to navigate back and forth between articles, then handed the tablet back.

Vegeta sat at the breakfast bar and started pulling up as many articles on the Red Dress Killer as he could find, writing down anything of note on a piece of paper.

Mrs Briefs placed a large bowl of pasta, covered in the sauce she'd just made, in front of him. "Did you find what you want?"

Vegeta shrugged. "Don't know yet."

Mrs Briefs looked over his shoulder at the paper. "You're looking into that serial killer! I read a few news stories on it. They don't have much to go on by the sounds of it. If you ask me, he could be a barista."

Vegeta frowned at the unfamiliar word. "What's a barista?"

"Someone who makes coffee. The wider area the girls were taken from is well known for being a coffee district, and I read in the news that a detective noted the smell of coffee on three of the victims."

Vegeta stared at Mrs Briefs in surprise.

"I watch a lot of crime shows," she said with a smile, before disappearing with bowls of food, presumably to deliver to her husband and daughter.

* * *

Bulma entered Vegeta's room to find the usual stark atmosphere gone, and chaos in its place.

Vegeta had the whiteboard up on the wall, with pieces of paper, printed articles, and a map pinned up on the wall beside it. His desk had about fifteen takeaway coffee cups from different cafes scattered over it, and the bottle of medicine she'd given him for his headaches had tipped over, pills spilling out on the desk.

He stood in front of the whiteboard, holding a tablet in his left hand and writing notes in a blue marker on the board with his right.

"If you weren't already an alien, I'd ask if you'd been abducted and replaced." Bulma walked in and started reading his notes - or the ones she could since he still seemed to use an odd hybrid of languages to get his thoughts down.

Vegeta only grunted and continued with his work.

Bulma picked up one of the cups on his desk. "Did you drink all this coffee?"

"Don't touch them!" Vegeta turned around and snatched the cup from her hand, placing it back on the desk. "You'll contaminate my evidence."

"Contaminate your… you are taking this very seriously. Where'd you learn forensic lingo?"

"C.S.I." Vegeta gave her an almost feral grin. "I watched an episode with your mother."

"Good grief." Bulma put her head in her hand. "You're watching T.V. with my mother. Should I be concerned? And what's with the coffee?"

"Your mother thinks the killer works at a café as a barista."

"You are taking detective advice from my _mother_?"

Vegeta placed his tablet on the desk and tugged on her arm to pull her directly in front of the map. "I think she's right."

Bulma raised her eyebrows incredulously.

"Look. The blue pins are where the bodies were found. Red for where they were taken, yellow for where the victims loved, and green for cafes in the area."

"This is intense," Bulma said, staring at the kaleidoscope of coloured pins in front of her.

"A detective claimed to smell coffee of three of the victims - the three whose time of death wasn't long before they were discovered." Vegeta's words came out fast, stumbling over each other, and he waved his hands as he spoke, looking more animated than she'd ever seen him. How much coffee had he drunk? "None of the victims knew each other, or appeared to have anybody they knew in common. But all five potentially visited the same three cafes on a regular basis." He prodded the map, pointing to three green pins.

"How do you know that?"

"I went to the crime scenes and picked up on the coffee smell. Then, I went to all the probable cafes the woman might frequent and bought their coffee. The scent is a particular coffee bean and only three of the cafes in the area use them. When I asked the managers if they'd seen any of the victims, they positively identified four between the cafes."

"Did you drink every one of those cups?" Bulma asked, feeling concerned about Vegeta's wide eyed gaze. He was high strung enough with his bloodlust without adding caffeine to the mix.

Vegeta waved his hand, dismissing her question. "The three cafes are from the same café chain and there are two baristas who work at all three. The killer is one of them but I don't know which one, who when or where they will kill again so I'm writing up a probability algorithm to work it out so I can make sure I'm in the right place next time they try to kill someone."

Bulma took a look, trying to decipher his cramped notes. "What are you using to hash the data? MD5?"

"No, the other one. What do you call it on this backwards planet?" He frowned, then clicked his fingers. "SHA256." Vegeta picked up the tablet and waved at her. "I've done the main algorithm on this and I'm using the board to track possible changes." He handed the tablet over to her, and she had a scan through. The amount of data he'd collected in such a short amount of time was impressive.

She picked up another marker and pointed to the board. "May I?"

Vegeta nodded, so Bulma started helping complete the algorithm, making notes on the board before making changes to the code. They worked together for a couple of hours, producing outputs and comparing the probabilities of each. She found herself smiling as they worked. It was just like it had been before he'd run off into space.

"I think we have it," Vegeta said finally. He took a couple of pills while Bulma inspected the board. He'd been taking them on the hour every hour, and the caffeine clearly hadn't done his trembling any good because the medication didn't seem to help that at all.

"Tonight, three to four hours after sunset." Bulma put a new back pin on the map. "There. Eighty six point five four percent probability."

"Good enough for a stake out." Vegeta gave her a sideways glance. "I wonder if I should be concerned that you are perfectly okay with this."

Bulma moved so she stood beside him, then laid a hand on his arm. "It's not ideal, but you'll be saving other lives. When I have a cure, you won't ever have to do it again."

"What if I…" Vegeta licked his lips and stared at the ground, his brow furrowed. "What if I _want_ to. I know the experiments made me need to kill, but I… I've never been morally opposed to it, even as a child."

"I know that Saiyan's had different views, but it's not about that. It's about you being able to make the decision yourself. When this is over, you won't be forced into anything again, Vegeta. You can make choices that aren't just about picking the lesser of two evils."

Vegeta looked at the board on the wall and sighed. "What a novel idea that is."

* * *

He perched on a rooftop overlooking the area of the killer's most likely abduction spot. Grey clouds blocked out the moon, sending light sheets of drizzle over the city.

The police hadn't been completely sure if the Red Dress Killer targeted young women in red dresses, or if he changed them into a red dress once he abducted them. The victims were all females in their early twenties who lived alone. They all looked similar, with tall but curvy builds, and long dark hair.

If Vegeta and Bulma had their math right, he'd soon find out.

He'd arrived early and settled in, using his superior vision to scan the streets for any sign of the three suspects. Below him lay a series of interconnected alleyways that lacked in security cameras. The perfect place to kill someone, Vegeta thought with a grin. Although the serial killer wouldn't be aware that he was the one to die.

A man wearing a hoodie approached one of the alleys and leaned against the wall. He stuck to the shadows and Vegeta couldn't quite make out his features, although he did meet the build of one of the suspects.

When a woman who fit the description of the victims, sans the red dress, exited her apartment and began walking down the street, Vegeta stiffened. The possible killer stopped slouching behind the wall, and placed his hand on his belt. Vegeta spotted a flash of silver, and the man lurched forward, towards the woman.

Vegeta dropped to the ground and kicked the man in the side, sending him stumbling into the wall and making him drop the knife in the process.

The woman continued past the alley, oblivious to the close call she'd had, and Vegeta turned to the man.

The man dove for his knife, but Vegeta beat him to it, placing his foot over the blade.

When the man growled and pulled back his hood. Vegeta immediately recognised the man as one of the baristas.

"Who the hell are you?" The Red Dress Killer's eyes flicked back and forth, clearly looking for another exit.

Vegeta picked up the knife, balanced the end of the knife's blade on his finger, then tossed it in the air, catching the handle. "Who I am doesn't matter. I hear you have a thing for red dresses."

The man glared at him, clenching his fists. "That's not any of your business."

Vegeta let out a low chuckle. "Oh, I think you'll find that I've made it my business…"

* * *

 **A/N: I'm not a crime writer, but I wanted Vegeta and Bulma to work together to help remind him just how amazing they are together... even if they are plotting something morally ambiguous!**


	46. Chapter 46

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

Blood swirled around the bottom of the shower, creating a spiderweb of red before disappearing down the drain. Vegeta felt as if a part of him had been sucked down too, leaving him hollow and cold, despite the heat of the steaming water. He scrubbed his skin viciously to get the last remnants of the man he'd just slaughtered off him.

His hands trembled, but no longer due to the bloodlust. That had thankfully vanished as the life of the serial killer drained away. The shaking could have been a reaction to his leftover adrenaline, but was more likely due to the dawning understanding that he'd felt _righteous_ in watching the light fade from that man's eyes. The barista deserved to die, he had no doubt, but since the serial killer had also murdered a mere fraction of the people Vegeta had, the Saiyan knew he shouldn't have felt anything but the desire to slake his bloodlust.

Vegeta turned the shower to cold and forced himself to stand there, head bowed, until the frigid water cascading over him caused the shaking to take over his whole body. Finally, he turned off the tap. He got dried and dressed, intending to shut himself in his room for the night.

Then he felt his son's ki.

It had been there the whole time of course, and no change in its level had occurred, but now that he wasn't plagued by headaches and distracted with the overwhelming need to kill, Vegeta found himself hyper-aware of it. Its similarity to the teenage boy he'd spent a year with was uncanny. Almost on autopilot, he made his way down the halls of Capsule Corp, then entered his son's room.

He'd never been inside it before, and glanced around curiously. A soft night light gave the room a warm glow. Purple walls were lined with pictures of teddy bears and the furniture, which included a strange cage with no roof, a set of drawers and a chair that appeared to be set on two curved sticks, were all a pale blue. Vegeta scrunched up his nose in disgust. This was most certainly _not_ a Saiyan child's room.

He only had himself to blame, he supposed as he ventured over to the cage to peer in. It wasn't as if the woman had a clue how Saiyans were usually raised, and he certainly hadn't bothered to tell her.

Vegeta placed his hands - the same hands that had taken a life less then two hours ago - on the rail of the barred bed, wrapping his fingers around the painted wood and taking in the sight of the child lying before him.

How was it possible that he, who had been snatching away lives since he was a boy, had also played a part in producing this small, vulnerable life?

Trunks lay on his back, breathing softly with little snuffling noises. In the dim light, Vegeta could just make out his soft features. With his eyes closed and purple hair under a wooly hat, the boy really did look like him.

Vegeta had never studied his infant son too closely before. He felt that if he looked too hard, he would begin to rub off on Trunks and twist his son into the same kind of evil Vegeta had been turned into. The teenage version of his son had been untainted, something Vegeta was secretly thankful for. If he stayed on this planet, could he avoid moulding the child into the same kind of monster he was?

A sick tingling in the pit of his stomach told him that no matter what, if he stayed he would find a way to wreck his child's life. Pushing that sensation away, Vegeta slipped out of the room as quietly as he'd entered, reaching out mentally to detect the ki of the only other person on this planet he cared about.

* * *

She felt him enter, the humming sensation of his presence luring her out of sleep. Bulma sat up, but didn't turn on a light, watching his shadowed figure, silhouetted by moonlight coming in through her open curtains, approach her stealthily.

She couldn't make out his features, but she knew he'd done it. He stood straighter, and held none of the pain he'd been carrying in his shoulders.

He stopped beside the bed and looked down at her. Sensing his hesitation, Bulma slid out of bed and stood in front of him, placing a hand on his hard chest. She slid her hand up and hooked it around his neck, tugging him towards her.

"You're cold," Bulma said, surprised at the temperature of his skin. Vegeta was usually warm, running a couple of degrees hotter than humans.

He huffed in response. "Warm me up then," he whispered, his words tickling her ear.

Bulma laughed, but he smothered the sound by kissing her softly, as if savouring her taste. She kissed him back, deepening it as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body flat against his.

She ran her hands up the smooth skin of his arms, over his muscles and under the sleeves of his t-shirt. Too… many… clothes. Frustrated, Bulma pulled at the bottom of his shirt. He yanked it over his head, allowing her hands to explore the hard lines of his stomach, then he found the skinny straps of her negligee and pushed them off. It slid to the ground and he let out a small hiss as he took in her now naked body.

He tipped his head to kiss her neck, sliding one hand down her back. Bulma gasped and let her head fall back. How did he manage to make her feel like this every time?

Vegeta made a low growl and kissed her mouth again, desperately this time. That's when she realised that he'd been in the chamber since they'd last had sex. He had the willpower of a saint. The only reason Bulma hadn't been ripping his clothes off the moment he'd got back was because of his symptoms, and for her it had been less than a couple of weeks.

Bulma drew her fingers around the waistband of his pants, before finding the button at the front. She started to undo it, fumbling as he kissed her shoulder and the lower at the top of her breast. He shucked his pants and boxers at the same time, then started pushing her back towards the bed until Bulma placed her hand on his chest to stop him. Instead, she guided them both around so that his back faced the bed. With a wicked grin, Bulma shoved his chest with her hand. He could have resisted of course, but he let himself fall backwards onto the mattress.

"Tonight, it's your turn to scream my name," she whispered before climbing over him and lowering her mouth to his.

* * *

When she woke up the next morning to Trunks crying for his breakfast, Vegeta still lay in bed beside her. Last night had been incredible. With his headaches gone Vegeta had turned into an insatiable animal, waking her up twice more in the night. He'd taken the challenge of making each other scream very seriously, and she had to admit he'd won. Not that she minded.

She rolled over to look at him. His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, but he didn't move until she placed a hand on his bare chest. Even then, he only tilted his head a fraction and narrowed his eyes into a glare.

Something was wrong. She'd sensed it a little last night. At times, he'd seemed almost desperate to touch her - a far cry from his usual controlled actions. She'd known he was acting unusual, but had been too caught up in lust to ask him about it.

"Are you okay?" Bulma asked, curling her hand on his chest.

Vegeta's gazed hardened even more. "I'm fine," he said gruffly. "The brat is crying."

"I can hear that."

"Go shut him up," Vegeta growled.

"You go do it," Bulma snapped. What the hell had gotten into him this morning?

Vegeta snorted. "Do you want the kid to cry even louder?"

Bulma rolled her eyes and dragged herself out of bed. She threw a backwards glance at Vegeta before she left the room, but he'd gone back to staring at the roof again.

"I need your blood after breakfast," she said.

Vegeta didn't move. With a sigh, Bulma went to fetch Trunks. Sometimes it was like she had two children living in this house.

* * *

It had been three days and the after effects of the bloodlust kill lingered on. 'Melancholy', the scientists called it. Vegeta thought the feeling of being sucked into an empty pit of nothing was a more apt description.

He knew Bulma was concerned - she showed it in every soft look, every gentle touch - but she was too preoccupied with finding a cure to press him, and he'd successfully managed to avoid her most of the time.

He'd tried to get rid of it with sex. It worked temporarily, but afterwards the feelings - or rather, the complete lack of them - came crashing back, worse than before.

Vegeta lay in his bed, staring at the white ceiling. He'd got his room back to the clean, tidy order he preferred, but that only reminded him that he had nothing to do but wait until Bulma figured out a cure. There was no 'if' about it. She would find one, Vegeta was sure.

He was less sure about what he would do after. With nothing to train for, and no bloodlust to worry about for at least a few weeks, there was nothing to occupy him but his thoughts, and they hovered on the same thing they'd been on since he came back to Earth. Stay, or go?

He'd wait until Bulma cured his bloodlust to leave, if that is what he decided. Traveling for months in space didn't cater well to his symptoms. Without the bloodlust, he'd be free to do whatever he wanted in the deep reaches of space. He'd be free to choose.

The problem was, he didn't know what he wanted. Should he stay and protect his family? He'd never had one of those before. If he stayed he could be sure any unknown threats to them were taken care of. But he couldn't guarantee that one day he wouldn't _be_ the threat. Which lead to his next choice. Leave.

Vegeta sighed up at the roof, which was refusing to offer up any suggestions. Without a purpose or a goal, he felt adrift. So, he stayed where he was, as still as he could, in the hopes he'd begin to feel steady again.

* * *

Bulma peered at the blood sample under the microscope, then swapped it out with the other one. There were clear differences between the sample she'd taken while Vegeta showed symptoms, and the sample she'd taken after, but identifying exactly what the differences meant, or how to reverse them was another challenge.

If only Goku were here. She could take his blood and compare it with Vegeta's to see if that held a clue. Of course, even if Goku were alive she'd have needed to knock him out to get the blood. There was no way Goku would voluntarily let her stick him with a needle.

Bulma pushed back the microscope with a sigh. This could take longer than she'd hoped.

The door to her lab swished open and Bulma glanced up. Gohan walked in, his hands in his pockets.

"Sorry to bother you while you are working," he said, polite as always.

"You are welcome here any time, Gohan!" Bulma spun her chair to face him and gave him a smile. "How are you doing?"

Gohan shrugged and looked at the ground. "Okay I guess…" he scuffed the floor with the tow of his shoe. "Do you think Vegeta would spar with me?"

"Vegeta?" Bulma leaned back in her chair. "Maybe. He hasn't done any training since…" She pressed her lips together. Since when Cell was defeated? Since Goku died? Since he saw him son get killed before him? Bulma hadn't figured out exactly what Vegeta's reasons for stopping training were, especially now that his symptoms were gone.

"Piccolo won't spar with me," Gohan said, sounding a little sulky. "He says I'm too 'volatile'." He rolled his eyes at that. "And Mom barely lets me leave the house. I had to say I needed to go to the library to escape."

"I see…" Bulma tapped her chin and grinned. "You know, Capsule Corp has a great library. Vegeta reads more than anyone I've met and he hasn't complained about the selection once."

Gohan scowled. "I don't want to read. I want to…"

"Beat the crap out of someone?" Bulma laughed at Gohan's shocked expression. "Your mother doesn't need to know that. Go ask Vegeta to spar, and if he won't, just hit him. It might do him some good." She took in Gohan's pale complexion. "And maybe it will do you some good too."

Gohan let out a small laugh. "Thanks, I'll go talk to him."

"Don't kill Vegeta please," Bulma said, digging into her pocket for her phone. "Feel free to knock him around a bit though, he's being a jerk as usual. I'll call your mom and let her know you are staying for dinner and the night to work on a project, okay?"

"The night?" Gohan looked confused.

Bulma chuckled. "You might be the strongest person on Earth, but Vegeta has barely come out of his room for three days which means he's in a mood, so if you tangle with him you are going to get a few bruises your mom doesn't need to see."

Gohan grinned at that.

"Be back for dinner!" She called out as Gohan ran out of the room. Shaking her head, she dialled Chi Chi's number.

* * *

Gohan trekked through the hallways of Capsule Corp, using Vegeta's ki as a guide. He stopped outside a door and knocked, sensing Vegeta in the room behind it. He felt Vegeta's ki flare in reply, but got no verbal response.

Hesitantly, Gohan turned the handle and pushed open the door, revealing a tidy bedroom, decorated in simply whites and greys. Vegeta sat on a bed cross legged, his eyes closed and hands resting on his knees. He didn't move when Gohan stepped in, and it barely looked like he was even breathing.

"Vegeta?" Gohan's voice came out in a squeak. He cleared his throat before continuing. "Did you want to spar?"

Vegeta cracked an eye open, but didn't reply.

"Last time I sparred with Picollo I hurt him, and I really need to spar with someone more my strength," Gohan said, the words tumbling out of his mouth in his eagerness. "I'm going crazy at home. It's like after the fight with Cell, everything feels…" He trailed off at Vegeta's lack of response.

The older Saiyan had opened both eyes and focussed them on Gohan, but his lips remained pressed together in tight lines.

Gohan stood awkwardly in the doorway, flushing under Vegeta's hard glare.

"Very well." Vegeta slowly uncrossed his legs then stood up. "Have you used altered gravity before?"

Gohan couldn't help grinning. "Only the ten times gravity in the time chamber."

"Five minutes," Vegeta said, by way of instruction.

Gohan nodded and left the room, practically skipping all the way the gravity chamber on Capsule Corp's front lawn. Finally, a real fight!

* * *

Gohan screamed in frustration and fired a ki blast at Vegeta. The man dodged it with relative ease, while Gohan struggled to breath under the weight of fifty times Earth's gravity. Had this been the Saiyan Prince's training regime before Cell? The man was insane! But a more than worthwhile opponent, Gohan admitted to himself, gritting his teeth while attacking Vegeta again.

During the battle with Cell Gohan had surpassed Vegeta in pure strength thanks to his anguish at losing his father, but here, in this room, Vegeta had the upper hand. The extra gravity didn't faze him at all. He'd even gone as far as calling the level 'pitiful'.

Vegeta attacked back, throwing a heavy punch, then surprising Gohan with a low kick that knocked him off balance. Gohan landed on his back with a gasp.

"For someone who hasn't trained in a few weeks, you are doing much better than me," Gohan groaned.

"Your strength is fuel by passion, not technique," Vegeta replied. "You don't have anything to fight for, and your technique is appalling. It is clear that my assumption that my son got his bad habits off you was correct."

"But I've never trained with Trunks! Oh…" Gohan flushed at how slow he'd caught on. "You mean future me."

Vegeta replied with a ki blast that forced Gohan to roll to dodge it. They continued fighting, Vegeta pointing out every little thing Gohan did wrong.

"You favour your right side," Vegeta said, slamming his clenched fist into Gohan's left side, sending him crashing backwards. "An opponent should never be able to tell if you are left or right handed. I thought you'd developed bad habits fighting the androids by yourself, but Kakarot must have been a poor teacher in the time chamber because your technique was acceptable when the Namekian had been your trainer."

"My dad trained me fine!" Gohan took a swing at Vegeta colliding with the man's jaw and knocking him to the side.

Vegeta touched his jaw and chuckled. "Kakarot trained you poorly, then left you here to defend Earth, without the techniques required to do it. He half trained you, giving you the strength to go into battle without the skills to survive."

Gohan clenched his fists, shaking in an effort not to rush at Vegeta.

"You got lucky with Cell, but your father can't die again for you to find your strength," Vegeta continued. "He took care of that by refusing to return." Vegeta smirked, his eyes flashing. "By abandoning you."

Gohan's ki erupted, writhing around him in golden waves. "Don't talk about my dad like that!" He flew at Vegeta, sending him an onslaught of ki blasts, followed by a flurry of punches and kicks that backed the older Saiyan against the wall.

Vegeta took each hit with barely a sound, barely retaliating. Even through his rage Gohan knew he should stop, knew that if he really wanted to, he could kill Vegeta. He knew that for whatever reason, Vegeta had purposefully goaded him and now wasn't defending himself like he should be. But Gohan couldn't stop. He drew back to the other side of the room to power up, unable to resist sending a blast that burst from his hands, aimed directly for Vegeta's heart.

Once he released it, Gohan wanted to take it back. His blast was a kill shot, not a sparring one. Time slowed for Gohan, but he was unable to move from his position, rooted to the gravity room's floor.

Vegeta's expression remained unreadable, and his arms didn't go up to block it. He didn't move a muscle, just stared at the blast with unblinking eyes. _He's not going to dodge_ , Gohan realised with growing horror.

Then Vegeta's hair faded from gold to black as he powered out of his Super Saiyan form.

He was going to let the blast kill him.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry it took me a few days longer than usual to get this chapter up. I skipped ahead to write the final scene (the end is nigh!) to ensure the rest of what I write flows nicely into it, and got a little caught up in it. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter... I'll try not to keep you all waiting too long before continuing on from this cliffhanger!**


	47. Chapter 47

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

"Vegeta!" Gohan cried out. Piccolo had warned him he'd become dangerous when sparring, and now he'd created a beam of energy so powerful it would rip right through the Saiyan prince. "Move!"

At the last millisecond, Vegeta flashed Gohan a smirk and dropped to the ground, firing his own ki blast upwards. To Gohan's amazement, even though Vegeta's blast didn't have the strength of a Super Saiyan form behind it, the blast knocked against his own, changing the angle of it. Vegeta's blast dissipated into Gohan's more powerful one, but Gohan's blast ricocheted upwards, hitting the wall on an angle, then bounced back directly towards Gohan.

Gohan jumped out of the way with a yell, and his ki blast finally ran out of energy and fizzled out.

Vegeta climbed back to his feet and gave Gohan a cool look.

Gohan collapsed to his knees, changing out of his Super Saiyan form. "Are you crazy! That could have killed you!" He ran a shaking hand through his hair.

"It could have," Vegeta said, brushing blood from a cut on his eyebrow away and smearing it over his temple in the process. "If that shot didn't completely lack technique. Your strength comes with a lack of control because it is born of anger. You need to learn to control it, so you can prevent yourself from throwing an attack you don't mean." He narrowed his eyes at Gohan. "Once you've killed someone, there's no taking it back. Even if you wished them back with Dragon Balls, you would have still done it."

Gohan felt his cheeks burn. "I didn't…"

"Mean to try kill me?" Vegeta cocked his head. "Of course you did. One bad word against your father and you were ready to blow. How else was I going to get a decent fight out of you?"

Gohan dropped his gaze to the ground. "You weren't even Super Saiyan and you stopped my attack."

"Anger blinds you to your enemy's true motives," Vegeta said. "Believe me, I've had that lesson pummelled into me many times. But technique often matters more than strength, especially if that strength is only born from fury." Vegeta slammed his hand down on a red button, turning off the gravity and making Gohan drop his hands to the ground to steady himself. "Your father fought because he loved it, but you… you are like me."

"I'm _nothing_ like you!" Gohan protested vehemently, climbing to his feet.

Vegeta shrugged, seemingly unbothered by Gohan's tone. "We both learned to fight because we had no choice. It wasn't _fun_. It was life or death. Fight or die."

"You love fighting," Gohan pointed out. "It's what you live for."

"It is all I've known," Vegeta replied. "I was sent from my home at five years old and told to go save the world. I suspect that sounds familiar to you. In your case, the mission was successful. In mine, Frieza blew up my planet and enslaved every remaining Saiyan he knew about, forcing me to fight for him."

Gohan frowned, considering his point. He hadn't thought about that before.

"Anger is often a Saiyan's biggest strength," Vegeta said. "But with a lack of control and honed skill it can also be your biggest weakness, and will ensure you wind up dead one day. If you want to spar with me again, you will learn to control it."

Gohan wanted to protest, but Vegeta had proved his point by stopping a powerful attack simply by sending up a ki blast to change the angle of it. And he'd done it all with barely a scratch!

Well, not quite, Gohan realised with some satisfaction as he spotted Vegeta limping slightly as he moved towards the door.

"Go shower," Vegeta said, pulling on the latch to open the door. "The blonde woman will have dinner ready soon."

Gohan slunk past Vegeta, then paused on the front steps and looked back at the prince. Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow.

"Will you teach me?" Gohan asked.

Vegeta looked surprised. "Me? There is an Earth saying… the blind leading the blind." He frowned, then shrugged. "But if you wish I can show you what I know."

"Thanks," Gohan said, feeling lighter than he had in weeks.

* * *

"Nice to see you've deigned to dine with us this evening," Bulma said from across the table, fluttering her eyelashes at him. "I was beginning to think you were staying in your room forever."

Vegeta scowled in reply. _Insolent woman_.

"Oh yes, it's lovely when you join us, Vegeta." Mrs Briefs started piling Vegeta's plate high with garlic and soy smelling noodles. As soon as she was done, he started eating quickly in order to escape as soon as possible, and picked up his book with his other hand in an attempt to forget about the dinner noise.

"No reading at the table, Vegeta!" Bulma said. When he ignored her demand, she reached over and snatched the book from his hands. "Do you have to be so anti-social? We have a guest. You can read about…" She turned the book over to look at the cover. " _A brief history of time_. Stephen Hawking. I read this years ago. Good, right?"

"I would know if you would let me _finish_ it," Vegeta snapped.

"After dinner." Bulma raised her eyebrows in warning, placing the book beside her. She turned to Gohan. "You look better. Your study was successful?" She threw him a wink from across the table.

Vegeta frowned, wondering what that was about.

Gohan glanced at Vegeta. "It was… educational."

The infant started lobbing mashed noodles across the table and Vegeta shielded his plate protectively. Even after more than three years he hadn't become used to the chaos of the Briefs household.

"Did you hear about that vigilante?" Gohan asked in between his own large mouthfuls. "He tracked down that serial killer and murdered him."

Vegeta choked on his food and started coughing. Bulma passed him a glass of water, a wide grin on her face.

"Yeah, I heard about that," Bulma said.

"Such a hero!" Mrs Briefs said. "Think of all the people whoever killed that bad man might have saved."

Mr Briefs glanced from Bulma to Vegeta with a sharp look, then went back to eating his food.

"If I were a vigilante, I'd have turned him over to the police," Gohan said, pouring more spy sauce over his noodles. "That's what a superhero would do."

Vegeta snorted at that. "A superhero! Do you mean one of those ridiculous characters who wear the most appalling costumes to fight?"

"Yeah!" Gohan grinned at him. "Being a superhero would be so cool, but they don't go round killing people. They hand criminals in to the police."

"Gohan, you are already a superhero," Bulma pointed out. "You saved the world."

Gohan flushed at that. "You mean _Mr Satan_ saved the world."

"Ugh, that man is too awful," Bulma said. "Isn't he Trunksie?" Her voice raised an octave as she put on that dreadful sugary sweet voice.

Vegeta scrunched his nose in disgust. "Don't talk to him like that. He's a Saiyan warrior, not a… a… whatever the hell that voice is supposed to be used on."

"Babies, Vegeta." Bulma rolled her eyes. "It's the voice we use for babies. And in case you forgot, your son is still a baby." She tickled Trunks' belly, and the boy let out a giggle.

"He's started walking." Vegeta pointed his chopsticks in the boy's direction. "He no longer requires coddling. I insist you stop with that voice. It's undignified."

"And _I_ insist that if you want to have a say in the way I raise Trunks, then you can damn well start acting like a father and look after him for once!"

"Language dear," Mrs Briefs reminded gently.

"That's not my job," Vegeta snapped. "He's too young!"

"You just said he wasn't a baby anymore." Bulma raised her eyebrows, and when Vegeta opened his mouth, but couldn't think of a response, she grinned. "Then it's decided. Mom and Dad are out tonight and I have work in the lab. _You_ can look after Trunks."

"What?" Vegeta stiffened in horror, glancing at the little boy who threw another handful of food across the table. "No! I can't… I…"

"Don't be a _baby_ , Vegeta." Bulma popped another mouthful of mushy food into Trunks' mouth. "He's your son, not a bomb. You'll be fine. Besides, I'm working on this project for _you_ , remember?"

"I'll help," Gohan said cheerfully. "How hard can it be?"

Vegeta swallowed hard as Bulma gave him a decidedly evil grin. "I think we are about to find out."

* * *

 _Give him a bath and put him to bed_ , she said. _It's easy_ , she said. _Trunks will go straight to sleep._

Vegeta glared at his son who held onto the bars of his cage and jumped up and down in glee. The bath had been a disaster, with both Vegeta and Gohan ending up wetter than Trunks. Vegeta had begun to think he'd spawned a demon child. Surely this behaviour wasn't normal?

"Up!" Trunks said, giving Vegeta a grin.

"No." Vegeta put his hands on his hips. "Bed time."

"Go to sleep, Trunks," Gohan said in that irritating baby voice. He looked sideways at Vegeta. "Maybe we should leave the room. He'll get bored and go to sleep."

"Good idea." Vegeta started backing out of the room. As Gohan started to close the door, Trunks' face crumpled. When the door shut, the boy let out an almighty wail.

Vegeta and Gohan both put their hands over their ears.

"I think we broke him!" Gohan yelled over the noise.

"Don't just stand there," Vegeta ordered. "Do something!"

"He's your kid!"

"You need the practice," Vegeta retorted.

"Huh?" Gohan looked confused and took his hands away from his ears. "What for?"

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "For your brother…"

"My what?"

Vegeta pushed past Gohan and opened the door again.

"No," he instructed Trunks. "You are a prince, not a wild animal. I demand you cease this commotion at once."

Trunks stopped crying, much to Vegeta's relief, but the boy screwed his face up into a scowl.

"Up!"

"Oh, for the…" Vegeta started swearing in every alien language he knew. "Fine. Up." Vegeta plucked the boy put of the cage, holding him at arm's length, then placed him on the floor.

"Now what?" Gohan said from the doorway.

"How do you get to sleep when you're not tired?" Vegeta asked. He sat down the floor beside Trunks, staring at the odd creature. Trunks stuck his curled hand in his mouth and started sucking it. _Disgusting_.

"I do homework," Gohan said.

Vegeta frowned. "Is that like this housework the women always badger me about doing?"

"No. It's… like mathematics."

Vegeta looked at Gohan in surprise. "You enjoy mathematics?"

"Enjoy might be a strong word," Gohan said. "It's okay, but Mom makes me do it."

"I don't think the boy is ready for variables and expressions yet," Vegeta said, watching Trunks move from sucking his hand to sucking his foot. "Really? That is revolting boy. Get your foot out of your mouth."

Trunks did as he was told, but put his hand back in, drooling all over it.

"How do _you_ get to sleep?" Gohan asked, waving a rattle at Trunks who grabbed at it with his slobbery hand.

"Train until I can't stay awake," Vegeta replied. "Sometimes I will meditate." He looked at Trunks doubtfully. "Maybe we could teach him that?"

"I'm willing to try anything," Gohan said with a yawn. "I want to go to sleep myself."

Vegeta reached over to Trunks and moved his limbs into a meditation pose. "Stay," he instructed.

Gohan started laughing. "He's not a dog!"

Trunks wriggled out of his pose, so Vegeta tried again. After the third attempt, Trunks actually stayed as instructed. Vegeta threw Gohan a triumphant look.

Gohan shrugged. "See how long it lasts."

"Don't jinx it," Vegeta hissed.

He and Gohan copied the same pose. They sat in silence for a while, Trunks watching them closely.

"What are you doing with your ki?" Gohan asked.

"Controlling it at micro levels." Vegeta told him how to let his ki rise for ten breaths then fall for ten breaths, then looked at his son curiously. "His ki is fluctuating too."

Trunks frowned in concentration, his ki rising slowly. Suddenly he smiled and clapped his hands, his ki going back to its normal level.

"Uh…" Gohan started shuffling backwards. "What's that smell?"

Vegeta gagged then leapt to his feet. "Bulma!" He backed up to the door and threw it open. " _Bulma_!"

* * *

 **A/N: Aw, you guys didn't really think Vegeta would let Gohan kill him, did you? I think Gohan and Vegeta (my version at least) have some things in common, and they are fun to write interacting with each other.**


	48. Chapter 48

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

After the bedtime disaster that had both Vegeta and Gohan running from Trunks' bedroom like the child had exploded (which, to be fair, he kind of had), Bulma hadn't been sure she could convince Vegeta to watch Trunks again.

It had taken some persuading, but Vegeta had finally agreed to watch Trunks by himself for one hour - the main condition being that the child had done his soiling of nappies for the day.

When she'd left, Trunks sat on the floor of the living room, playing with a tambourine while Vegeta perched on the edge sofa, hands over his ears, his eyes wide. The look of terror on Vegeta's face had been priceless. How a grown man who'd faced up against enemies like Frieza and Cell could be that scared of a one year old beggared belief.

But, he didn't call her back when she shut the door, and so far, fifty-five minutes into her excursion, her phone hadn't rung once.

Bulma stopped at the traffic lights and indicated right to turn onto Capsule Corp's street. The lack of communication had to mean their time was going well. Unless something terrible had happened. What if Vegeta just left the house, leaving Trunks all alone? No, there was no way he would do that… right?

Bulma turned onto the street, then pulled into the driveway of the main house. She checked her watch. She still had three minutes left. It was tempting to enjoy the silence of the car instead of entering a house that would likely be filled with chaos, if Vegeta's last attempt at watching Trunks was anything to go by.

With a sigh, Bulma got out of the car and collected her shopping, then headed into the house. "Hello?" She paused in the hallway, stomach sinking at the eerie silence. Her parents were away at a conference, but there should have been some noise coming from Vegeta or Trunks. It wasn't Trunks' bedtime, and when awake he was _never_ quiet.

"Vegeta?" Bulma put her shopping down, then went in search of them. "Trunks?" Deciding they couldn't be inside, Bulma opened the door to the backyard. Relief flooded through her when she saw them both, and she leaned against the doorway, smiling as she watched them.

Vegeta did a simple kata with a few steps and a couple of punches. Trunks stood in front, mirroring his father almost exactly. Vegeta stopped his kata. "Again," he said to Trunks.

Trunks repeated the kata, this time by himself. Vegeta tapped on the bottom of his arm during a punch. "Keep your elbow up. Again."

He did the movements again, and this time Vegeta gave a nod of approval. "Good."

Trunks grinned at that and clapped his hands. He turned around and spotted Bulma, then turned back to Vegeta. "Up!"

Vegeta shook his head. "You have legs. Walk." He pointed at Bulma and Trunks obediently tottered towards her.

"Don't," Vegeta said when Bulma went to pick him up. "He can walk."

Bulma frowned at Vegeta, and nearly picked up Trunks anyway. There wasn't anything wrong with carrying her son! But then she remembered Trunks' surprisingly defined movements after just an hour of training with Vegeta and she stopped herself. "Are you going to start training him?" She asked.

Vegeta pressed his lips together before answering. "He is capable enough for some basics."

"Maybe an hour every few days?" Bulma suggested tentatively.

Vegeta nodded and Bulma fought back a grin. Finally, they might start bonding like Vegeta had seemed to do with the older version of their son. And _maybe_ that would be enough to convince him to stay on Earth.

* * *

Vegeta place two peas in front of Trunks, on the tray of his high chair. "Count," he commanded. His son would learn basic mathematics, damn it.

Trunks scrunched up his face and peered at them. He picked one up. "One." Trunks popped it in his mouth and looked at the next one. "One." He ate that one too.

Vegeta groaned in frustration. "Trunks told me he struggled with math, and I assumed it was due to not having time to study, what with the androids causing havoc on his world. But maybe my son is merely an imbecile."

Gohan laughed, and then winced at the movement, touching his left cheekbone, which sported a sizeable bruise from their latest sparring session. "Trunks is hardly talking yet. Expecting him to count to ten might be a bit much."

"I refuse to accept that." Vegeta glared at his young son. "Your mother is a genius. I am a mathematical savant. You will not let your superior genes down with an inability to count peas." Vegeta placed another two peas in front of Trunks. Trunks went to pick the first one up, but Vegeta stopped him. "Count, then eat."

Trunks frowned at that, but started staring at the peas. "One… two."

Vegeta pushed the two peas towards Trunks for him to eat, then slumped back in his chair as the headache that had been pressing against his skull for the last few days decided to throw sharp bolts of pain at his temples. "Thank the gods. You aren't a complete idiot."

Gohan laughed again. "Aw, he might be a mathematical savant too!"

Vegeta scowled at Gohan's mocking tone. "Do you want help with your homework or not?"

"Yes." Gohan pushed his book towards Vegeta with a grin. "I can't figure out problem twelve."

Vegeta looked at the workbook, instantly seeing the issue. "It's because you've worked out the variable in the second term incorrectly."

Gohan peered over as Vegeta explained it. "You _are_ good at math."

Vegeta huffed. "I told you that."

"Yes…" Gohan started edging away from Vegeta, which immediately raised the prince's suspicions. "But your ego is bigger than Mr Satan's so I had my doubts."

Vegeta let out a furious yell, and Gohan snatched up his workbook and fled the room, laughing.

Vegeta stayed at the table, sighing at Trunks. "Everyone seems to have forgotten that I could blow up this planet at any moment."

Trunks smiled and slammed his hands on the tray. "More peas!"

Vegeta rolled his eyes skyward, taking a few deep breaths, before placing three more peas in front of Trunks. "You want more peas? Count them first."

* * *

Bulma sighed as she looked through the microscope and detected no change to the genetic structure of the cells. It was looking more and more likely that keeping her promise to cure Vegeta before he next needed to kill was going to be impossible.

His headaches had returned already. Vegeta hadn't said anything, but he rubbed his temples when he didn't know she was looking and winced more than usual when Trunks started wailing.

Nonetheless, he hadn't stopped spending time with Trunks. In fact, he was training with him for an hour every day, giving him meals when Bulma and her parents were busy, and even attempting to teach Trunks to count. Vegeta had also taken to sparring with Gohan regularly. Much to Bulma's relief, it meant Vegeta had stopped moping in his room, and Gohan looked happier each time he visited.

The lab door swished open and Vegeta walked in. Bulma felt a small rush when she saw him, hair tousled from a shower, and wearing jeans and a baggy hoodie with large pockets that he had shoved his hands into. No Earth man had ever made such simple clothes look so damn good.

"Your mother has Trunks," he said, even though she hadn't asked. He sat down on her extra office chair and spun around on it.

"Everything okay?" Bulma asked, turning her own chair to face him.

Vegeta stopped spinning and shrugged. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and placed them on his knees, staring at them. "It's coming back. We should think of another plan."

Bulma sank back into her chair and chewed on her lip. So, he'd already figured out she wasn't getting far.

"You will discover the key to this," Vegeta said, looking up at her. "I do not doubt your abilities. But I should leave now, while my symptoms are not dangerous. There are plenty of places I can go where alleviating this will not be an issue…" he let out a deep sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't care what I have to do, but I will not risk hurting you. Or the boy."

"I don't want you to leave," Bulma said. _Ever_ went unspoken. "It's good for Trunks to have you around." She reached out and took Vegeta's hand in hers. "Give me a week. I have one more idea to try, and if it proves unsuccessful, we'll find a plan B."

Vegeta tugged on her arm, forcing her chair to wheel closer to his. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers, cupping her face with his other hand. It was so sweet, and so unlike him, Bulma almost cried. "One week," he said when he pulled back. "But I will get the ship ready in case it becomes necessary."

Bulma nodded silently, then leaned forward onto his chest. She would find a cure and she would convince him to stay permanently. She had to.

* * *

Vegeta stepped into Dr Briefs' lab, glancing around at the expansive room. It was at least three times larger than Bulma's, and much neater than her cluttered chaos, although he suspected if she had a lab this size she'd still make a mess of it. "I need to get the ship ready to leave," he said, half distracted by the floor to ceiling high whiteboard full of complex mathematical equations.

Dr Briefs looked up from the paperwork in front of him and turned around to frown at Vegeta, smoke trailing from the cigarette hanging from his mouth. "You are leaving again?"

Vegeta sighed and leaned against the wall close to the door, folding his arms. "It may become a necessity."

The older man's frown deepened, crinkling his forehead.

"You are aware of my… problem?" Vegeta asked, grimacing at having to talk about it with the doctor.

Dr Briefs nodded. "Bulma requested my help to try speed things up. Your cell structure is quite intriguing. The results so far, while unfortunately unhelpful for you, are fascinating."

"I do love being a laboratory test case," Vegeta grumbled. "My symptoms are already coming back, and they are strong. I need the ship ready in case I…" He dropped his gaze to the tiled floor. "Will you help?"

Dr Briefs stayed silent for a moment, drawing in slowly from his cigarette. "I never apologised," he said finally.

Vegeta looked back up in surprise.

"What I said to you… I can't help but worry that I was a big reason for you leaving for space." Dr Briefs met Vegeta's gaze. "I made assumptions about your character, and they were wrong. I should never have told you to leave."

"You were right to want me gone," Vegeta replied. "You should still want me out of your daughter's life. I _will_ hurt her, and the boy."

"And as my daughter pointed out to me once she found out what I said, even I've hurt her before," Dr Briefs said with a shrug. "Everyone makes mistakes, and I understand that you would never hurt them purposefully. I also have no doubt that if she hasn't already, Bulma will do something that hurts you. Maybe not physically, but emotional pain can be just as bad - sometimes worse. Getting hurt and hurting others is a part of life."

"I'm afraid that I…" Vegeta closed his eyes against his latest headache and clenched his fists to stop their shaking. "I'm afraid that I'll ruin their lives." He scowled, horrified at admitting that aloud.

Dr Briefs chuckled. "I feared that for the first sixteen years of Bulma's life. I will help get the ship ready, but if you must leave, I hope it will be temporary. You are family now son. You will always have a place here."

* * *

"Chi Chi, hi!" Bulma held the door open for her friend to let her inside. "I didn't know you were coming over."

"I wanted to see what Gohan is getting up to," Chi Chi said with a frown. "He's been spending so much time here."

"He's always welcome here." Bulma let Chi Chi to the kitchen then started making them some tea. "He's such a well-mannered young man."

Chi Chi smiled at that. "He's an angel, my boy. I was a bit worried about him after Goku died, but he seems to be doing okay now."

Bulma poured the tea, hiding her own smile. Chi Chi wouldn't believe that it was training with Vegeta that had her son feeling better.

"I wanted to talk to you too," Chi Chi said, accepting the cup of tea. She placed a hand on her stomach. "I'm pregnant."

Bulma's eyes widened as she inspected Chi Chi's belly. "How far through?"

"Nearly three months."

"You're still so tiny!" Bulma exclaimed.

"I carried small with Gohan too," Chi Chi said.

"What does Gohan think?"

Chi Chi sighed and wrapped her hands around her cup, staring into it. "I haven't told him. He's having a hard enough time forgiving his father as it is."

"You need to tell him," Bulma said gently, laying her hand on Chi Chi's arm.

"I know." Chi Chi have her a watery smile. "But once I do it will seem… more real, you know?"

Bulma took a sip of her own tea, remembering how much she'd wanted to deny what her body was telling her when she was in the early stages of pregnancy with Trunks. "I know what you mean. If you need anything, let me know. Okay?"

Chi Chi nodded, then set a firm expression on her face. "I want to see Gohan. He told me he's been coming here to study, and I want to make sure he's not just coming around here to train."

"They've taken over Dad's second lab today," Bulma said.

"They?" Chi Chi asked.

Bulma just grinned. "Come on, I'll show you."

She led Chi Chi through the complex, relieved that for once Vegeta and Gohan weren't beating each other up. She pushed open the door to the lab, revealing Vegeta and Gohan standing in front of a large whiteboard.

Trunks sat on Gohan's shoulders, the two of them watching Vegeta draw a diagram of different angles on the board.

"If your opponent fires a ki blast at a ninety-three-degree angle, with the wind coming in at north east, at this speed," Vegeta said, tapping a set of numbers on the board, "then this is the most effective angle of counter attack."

Gohan nodded, his face serious despite the young boy tugging at his hair and giggling. "Does adjusted gravity make a difference to the calculation?"

"Yes, because it will impact the speed of the ki…" Vegeta trailed off as he realised Bulma and Chi Chi were listening. An adorable flush spread over his cheeks, and Bulma had to resist the urge to go over and hug him and embarrass him further.

Gohan glanced over at them and quirked an eyebrow. "I said I'd be home for dinner."

"I know." Chi Chi's gaze was fixed on the calculations on the board. "You've actually been studying here…"

"Mostly maths and physics," Gohan said, picking Trunks off his shoulders and placing him on the ground. "I always thought they were boring, but Vegeta has been showing me how to use them to defeat an opponent."

Chi Chi frowned at that. "I suppose it's better than just coming here to train."

"It is important to balance theory and practical application," Vegeta said stiffly, glaring down his nose at Chi Chi. "Theory alone doesn't save the world."

"The world doesn't need saving anymore," Chi Chi snapped, her shoulders tensing.

Bulma groaned internally. This could go wrong, quickly.

Vegeta opened his mouth as if to bite back at her, but then he closed it and placed his hand on his head. "Whatever. If the world needs saving and your son isn't equipped to deal with it, I don't care. Not my planet."

"Well, I care." Gohan stared at his mother, fierce determination on his face. "I want to do both. I want to do well in math and physics because it will help me fight."

"Fighting won't pay the bills, Gohan," Chi Chi said, her tone laced with weariness.

"I'm not saying I won't do well at school," Gohan said. "I'm saying I will do both. I have a responsibility to."

Chi Chi gave her son a smile. "You are a good boy, Gohan. Let's go get an early dinner. I have some news to share with you."

Gohan glanced back at Vegeta, who gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

"Thanks for having me," Gohan said to Bulma, polite as always.

Bulma waved them off, then picked up Trunks, who was tugging at her leg. She walked over to Vegeta and gave him a sideways hug. He stiffened at her touch at first, but leaned into it after a moment.

"Gohan looks up to you," she said.

"Then he's an idiot," Vegeta replied, resting his forehead against hers and closing his eyes.

Bulma breathed in the earthy smell of him. "He's a good judge of character."

Vegeta snorted and shook his head. He pulled back, then plucked Trunks from her arms and placed him in a leather office chair with arms. "Your turn, brat." He wiped the board clean then drew four apples on the board. "How many apples?"

Trunks frowned in concentration. "One... two... three... four!"

Bulma grinned, letting herself out of the lab. He might not be the most _conventional_ father, but she wouldn't swap him for anyone.

* * *

 **A/N: And the dad of the year award goes to? Okay, maybe not Vegeta yet, but he's getting there!**


	49. Chapter 49

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

Gohan walked into the combined kitchen dining area with a deep frown furrowing his brow. When he saw Vegeta in the kitchen he let out and exaggerated sigh. "Mom is having a baby. I'm going to have a brother." He threw himself on the couch with a huff.

Vegeta rolled his eyes. He'd told Gohan that weeks ago! "Did you not sense its ki before?" He opened the pantry and rummaged around until he finally found the pills he'd been looking for.

Gohan let out an irritated grunt. "Now that I know, I sense it as soon as I walk into the house. But it's so similar to mine I didn't really pick up on it before."

The pill lid decided to be stubborn. Vegeta let out a low growl, trying to twist if off with trembling hands. He finally got it undone, but cracked the container in the process, spilling the pills all over the floor. "Fuck it." Vegeta threw the pill container across the room in frustration, then took a couple of deep breaths before leaning under the sink to hunt for the brush and shovel.

"Do you think Dad knew?"

"What?" Vegeta lifted his head and it slammed into the top of the cupboard. "Son of a…" With a growl, Vegeta rubbed the top of his head. He pulled out the brush and shovel, then started sweeping up the pills.

"Do you think Dad knew Mom was pregnant before he…"

"Oh." Vegeta contemplated keeping the dirty pills for a moment but, disgusted with the idea of how contaminated they were, dropped them down the waste disposer. He'd ask Bulma for more later. "Yes. He would have known."

Gohan remained silent. Vegeta dragged himself into the lounge and sank into one of the chairs. Tipping his head back, he closed his eyes against the dancing lights appearing in his vision.

"How could he do this to us?"

Vegeta cracked an eye open to look at Gohan, who he could vaguely make out lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. "Maybe he didn't want to deal with a squalling infant." He closed his eye, stifling a groan at the pain in his head.

"I don't think I can forgive him for this."

"Then don't," Vegeta mumbled. His mouth felt dry, and his tongue stuck to the roof of it. "I've resented my dead father for abandoning me my whole life. Hasn't caused me any harm."

Gohan snorted. "Yes, you are the perfect picture of a well-balanced individual."

Vegeta didn't reply. Instead, he let the waves of pain cascade over him, pulsating in his head with each beat of his heart. _Two more days_. That's how long Bulma had left before she either had a cure or he would leave.

"Do you want to spar?" Gohan asked, jolting Vegeta out of his thoughts.

"Ugh. No." Vegeta squeezed his eyes tighter, trying to block out the light more. "Head. Hurts."

"What's wrong?" Gohan asked "You don't look well."

Vegeta heard Gohan's words, but they sounded distant and he couldn't even open his mouth to reply. A pounding in his head sounded like waves crashing against his brain.

"Are you okay…? Vegeta?"

Eventually he heard Gohan leave the room, and Vegeta fell into a smothering blanket of darkness, giving him a blissful release from the pain in his head.

* * *

Gohan burst into the lab, making Bulma jump.

"I think something's wrong with Vegeta," Gohan said, his cheeks flushed. "He said his head hurt, and then stopped responding at all."

"Shit." Bulma stood up and started following Gohan through the complex. "The idiot probably hasn't taken his medication."

"What's wrong with him? Is he sick?" Gohan went pale. "Does he have the heart sickness my dad got?"

"He gets migraines, that's all," Bulma said gently. "I've been working on something to stop them coming back, but so far I haven't been successful."

They reached the lounge and Bulma ran to Vegeta's side. He sat slumped on a single seat plush chair with his eyes closed. She touched his forehead, which was wasn't only a little warmer than usual, but he didn't respond. Bulma listened to his shallow breathing, then took his clammy hand in hers, pressing her fingers to his wrist to feel his pulse. It was faint, but extremely rapid – almost fluttering against her finger."

"Is he… asleep?" Gohan asked, shuffling from one foot to the other in obvious agitation.

"I think he's unconscious." Bulma swallowed hard, panic rising in her throat. Anyone unconscious normally had a low heartrate, but he wasn't responding at all, and given Vegeta's genetics, anything was possible with him. "Help me get him onto the floor?"

Gohan helped her pull Vegeta off the chair and onto the floor so she could put him in the recovery position. Bulma went to the kitchen to fetch a cloth, then spotted Vegeta's pill bottle on the floor. She picked it up. Empty. Bulma leaned on the kitchen bench and forced herself to take a few deep breaths.

Feeling steadier, she made a clean cloth damp, then brought it over to Vegeta and placed it on his forehead. "Keep him cool," Bulma instructed Gohan. "It usually helps his headaches, so maybe it will bring him out of this. I'm going to get my dad. Vegeta doesn't have any medicine left, but we have some that can be used in an IV line. Stay with him until I get back?"

Gohan nodded and gave her a shaky smile. Bulma fled the room to find her father. She'd been _so_ close to a cure. If only the symptoms had held off a little longer.

* * *

They managed to get him into a bed and set up an IV, but when Bulma was about to insert it into his arm, Vegeta stirred.

"Vegeta?" She placed a hand on his forehead. "Stay still, okay? We'll have you feeling better soon."

Vegeta's eyelids flickered, revealing the whites of his eyes. He groaned then muttered something indecipherable in a guttural language. He started thrashing and Bulma swore, unable to get the line in.

"Hold him down," she instructed Gohan.

"What?" Gohan edged closer to the bed nervously.

"He doesn't know what he's doing," Bulma said. "I need to get this IV in, and that's not going to happen if he accidentally knocks me out."

Dr Briefs glanced at the readings on the monitor. "We should sedate him. His heart rate is through the roof."

"Good idea. I'll get this in, you get the sedative."

"Should I even ask why you have sedative on hand?" Gohan asked, grabbing both of Vegeta's arms to hold him to the bed.

"Rogue dinosaurs," Bulma replied as she prepped the needle. "Handy for rogue Saiyan's too."

Vegeta struggled wildly, knocking Gohan across the room. He sat bolt upright, eyes dark and flashing. "I'll kill you," he hissed in Gohan's direction. The room started to shake, and even Bulma felt Vegeta's ki rise.

"Gohan!" Bulma cried, stumbling backwards. "You need to hold him still. Dad, hurry it up!"

Gohan climbed back to his feet and looked at Vegeta in determination. He stepped towards him, then grabbed his arms, forcing him backwards onto the bed.

Vegeta let out a wild cry, cursing in a dizzying array of languages, but Gohan managed to keep the arm Bulma needed still for long enough to get the IV in.

"Don't let him go yet," Bulma warned. "Wait until he's sedated."

Dr Briefs ran back into the room and handed Bulma the sedative. She injected it into the line, and held her breath.

The room stopped shaking, and Vegeta gradually went limp. His eyes kept opening and closing drowsily. "Bulma," he murmured. "I need to go. I can't stay."

"Hush," she said, brushing his hair with her fingers. "You'll be okay."

He mumbled something else, then went quiet, his eyes remaining closed and chest rising and falling softly.

"Can we keep him like this for a couple of days?" Bulma asked her father. "We are close to that cure. I didn't expect his symptoms to come back so soon, and so strong. We don't have many other options."

Dr Briefs nodded. "It is probably for the best. By the time he wakes up he'll be cured." He gave a low chuckle. "Or dead, depending on how the procedure goes."

Both Bulma and Gohan paled.

"Dead?" Gohan asked.

"That was a joke, my boy," Dr Briefs said with a grin.

"A bad one." Bulma glared at her father, then turned to Gohan. "Vegeta will be fine, don't worry."

Gohan looked over at the unconscious Saiyan. "This is more than a headache, isn't it."

Bulma sighed, then wrapped an arm around Gohan's shoulders and looked at Vegeta. His face had smoothed out, the usual stern expression melted away. He always looked much younger when sleeping. "Yes," she said. "But we will figure it out."

* * *

"They changed him at a genetic level," Dr Briefs explained, sifting through the notes on his desk. "His body constantly produces an adrenaline-like toxin which only drops when the type of endorphins created by him killing someone neutralised it."

Gohan frowned, looking over the doctor's shoulder. The notes looked like another language to him. "And it's the toxin that causes his headaches?"

"Exactly," Bulma said, studying the latest print out of Vegeta's vital signs. "The toxin builds up and over time and heightens his senses, but if it isn't neutralised soon enough, it causes migraines, tremors, and hallucinations."

Gohan ran his hand over his face, remembering the number of times Vegeta had rubbed his temples, or seemed grumpier than usual in the last couple of weeks. No wonder the man had a perpetual scowl if this is what he lived with.

"And has he…" Gohan clenched his fists. "Has he always been like this?"

"Frieza's scientists did this to him when he was a kid, but he'd been fighting in Frieza's army before then." Bulma peered through a microscope, adjusting the focus. "Most of the time he would have killed before the symptoms came on this strong."

"We've found a way to reproduce the neutralising endorphins synthetically," Dr Briefs said. "But we need to find a way to get his body to accept them. His system is particularly complex and so far, his cells reject the synthesised version."

"Can I help?" Gohan asked. "I know I'm not a scientist, but I'd like to do something." Vegeta wasn't the nicest guy in the world but Gohan couldn't help feel indebted to him, both for helping him defeat Cell and for showing him how to channel his grief afterward.

"Maybe check in on him every so often?" Bulma said with a weary smile.

Gohan nodded, then left the Briefs to their laboratory. He couldn't do much, but if Bulma could concentrate better on her work knowing Gohan was watching Vegeta, then he'd be happy to do that.

* * *

It had been a day and a half, and still no real progress. Bulma was frustrated, but refused to give up or rule out any idea. On a hunch, Bulma gently heated a cell sample, then injected the synthetic endorphins into it. She watched with baited breath as the toxins flared up against the intruding endorphins, then faded away. "It works." She let out a loud whoop. "It works!"

Dr Brief looked up from his own microscope. "You have something?"

"Heat." Bulma beamed at her father. "The reaction needs a catalyst."

"Are you heating the cells or the endorphins?" Dr Briefs asked, coming over to peer through Bulma's microscope. "Look at that, it's completely neutralised the toxin."

"The cells," Bulma said. "I tried heating the endorphins but they sustained damage from the increased temperature."

Her father glanced at her notes, running his finger down the column of temperatures. "How are we going to get Vegeta's cells hot enough? This is extreme, even for him."

Bulma slumped her shoulders, suddenly deflated. The last time he'd been that warm he'd been violently ill. Unless…

"I have an idea," she said with a grin, rushing from the room. "I'll be back soon!"

* * *

Gohan sat next to Vegeta's bed, reading one of the books he had on his nightstand. The man had eclectic reading tastes. There was a nonfiction book on Russian folklore - written in _French_ of all languages, a historical World War Two novel, a sci-fi spy thriller, and the horror novel that Gohan was reading now.

Rain lashed at the window, making the excuse for staying at the Briefs easier for his mother to buy, but it also added to the creepy atmosphere of the book, making Gohan jump at any little noise.

The door opened, and Gohan nearly dropped his book in fright. It was just Mrs Briefs and Trunks though.

"It's so nice of you to stay with Vegeta," Mrs Briefs said. "That poor, sweet man. He's such a gentle soul, I can't stand the thought of him being this unwell."

Gohan smothered a smile at the idea of Vegeta being considered gentle. He had the bruises to prove that the man was nothing of the sort, at least when sparring.

Mrs Briefs sniffed, and dabbed her eyes with her free hand. "Do you want something to eat, sweetheart?" She jostled Trunks on her hip, making the child coo in delight. "I made lasagne."

"That would be-"

"Gohan!" Bulma rushed in, shoving past her mother and Trunks. "I need your temperature." She grabbed his arm and hauled him off the seat. "Come with me."

"I'll have some lasagne later," Gohan called over his shoulder and Bulma yanked him from the room.

She dragged him all the way to Capsule Corp's largest lab, then shoved him towards her father.

"Can you take his temperature, Dad?" She asked.

Dr Briefs looked puzzled, but pulled out a war thermometer and waved it at Gohan. "May I?"

Gohan nodded, and Dr Briefs took his temperature.

"As expected," Dr Briefs said. "Like Trunks, his temperature sits about a degree and a half higher than a normal human."

"Now go Super Saiyan," Bulma instructed.

Gohan glanced around. "What, in here?"

Bulma nodded emphatically.

Gohan shrugged, then powered up, his ki making loose paperwork fly around the room. When he turned, a glowing aura surrounding him, Bulma snatched the thermometer from the doctor and checked Gohan's temperature again.

She checked the reading and grinned. "It's pretty close. We might need to warm him up a bit as well, but his standard temperature is a little higher than Gohan's normally, so we might just be able to make this work."

"Make what work?" Gohan asked, powering out of his Super Saiyan form.

Bulma twirled the thermometer in her hand with a smirk. "I think we've found a way to get Vegeta better again."

* * *

 **A/N: I might have stretched my scientific knowledge a _little_ with this chapter, but if I have claimed anything absurdly impossible, I'm going to take a leaf out of Giorgio A. Tsoukalos' book and blame aliens. Because, you know... Vegeta _is_ one.**

 **Thanks for all your wonderful reviews, I love receiving them so much! Some Q &A:**

 **How did Vegeta know Chi Chi was pregnant?** Remember that scene straight after Cell where he visits Goku's house and wonders if the extra ki in the house influenced Goku's decision to stay (Chapter 44)? Chi Chi was far along enough for him to pick up on it (whereas Bulma, when he left for space, was not).

 **Will you write another chapter where Vegeta kills a murderer?** Maybe as a oneshot, or a series of oneshots with Vegeta going around killing serial killers in his spare time. Would anyone read that?

 **...plus not to sound crazy, but I want to see some actual killing. Not just implications.** For me, Vegeta's reaction _after_ the kill was more important, and I felt that a gory kill scene immediately prior would take away from that. Would I include graphic murder scenes if I was writing something similar as a oneshot? Maybe... probably... sounds fun!


	50. Chapter 50

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

The plan made Gohan nervous, mostly because it all rested on his shoulders. He agreed to it though, and would have done it for Bulma regardless of his own thoughts on the Saiyan prince. But since the battle with Cell, his opinion on the man had changed. Vegeta was still arrogant, abrupt, and bad-tempered, but since training with him, Gohan had begun to realise that maybe Bulma hadn't been as crazy as everyone thought for falling for the man. And even to Gohan's inexperienced eleven-year-old eyes, it was obvious she had fallen. Every time she'd looked at Vegeta's sleeping form over the past few days, she'd done it with such tenderness in her eyes. Even his own parents, who Gohan had never doubted their love for one another (despite his mother's constant complaining about his father's irresponsibleness) had never looked at one another with that much intensity.

At Bulma's instruction, Gohan carried the unconscious Vegeta from his room, which had been beeping constantly from machines set up to monitor his vitals, to the comparatively silent gravity room. They'd decided it was the safest, and most contained place. A raging Vegeta set lose on the outside world wouldn't end well in any universe.

Gohan struggled awkwardly to get him there without dropping him. The prince might have been short compared to most of the other Z fighters, but he was still taller and bulkier than Gohan, and much heavier than he looked. With a loud exhale of relief, Gohan dumped Vegeta unceremoniously in the centre of the tiled floor of the gravity room.

Bulma looked up from the gravity room's console and threw him a sharp glare. "Careful!"

Gohan flushed under her fierce stare. "Sorry," he said, even though the idea of Vegeta being injured after being dropped at that height was laughable.

Bulma finished tinkering with the console, then handed Gohan an earpiece like the one she had in her own ear already. He put it in his ear, adjusting it to make it more comfortable.

Bulma put her hand to her ear. "Can you hear me?"

Her voice came through the earpiece. Gohan touched his own, and feeling a small button, pushed it down. "Affirmative," he said with a grin. "Over and out."

Bulma laughed, shaking her head. "This is very James Bond, huh." She checked the console one last time, then knelt beside Vegeta and placed a small white circle on his chest, underneath his t-shirt. "This will help me monitor his vitals. Hopefully he'll be too distracted to notice it. I'll tell you as soon as his temperature is high enough." She touched the side of Vegeta's face gently and smiled sadly down at him. "He'll wake up soon, and likely be mad as hell and needing to kill something." She drew her hand back the stood, looking at Gohan. "Vegeta won't be holding back from this fight, so watch out. I need you to force him to turn Super Saiyan and fight for long enough to get his core temperature to increase."

Gohan nodded, swallowing down his nervousness.

Bulma handed him a thick injection syringe filled with pale blue liquid. "Go for the top of his arm or his thigh. His skin is thicker than a human's so it will require a bit of force. Then push the plunger and make sure you get it all in his system."

Gohan put the syringe in the zipped pocket of his pants, hoping Bulma had made it sturdy enough to withstand the battle about to ensue. "I won't let you down."

"I know." Bulma grinned at him. "You never have, kid."

She left them then, locking the gravity room from the outside so the only escape would be by blowing the room to smithereens. Gohan hoped it wouldn't get that far, because any hope of manipulating Vegeta's temperature went out the window if he took the fight outside.

"Can you still hear me?" Bulma's voice, slightly crackly, boomed in his ear.

Gohan winced, touching the contraption. "Yes. No need to yell."

"Sorry," Bulma replied. "I've got his vitals coming through fine. He's starting to wake so I'm going to bring the temperature up. It might get a bit uncomfortable for you."

Gohan watched Vegeta carefully. The man's right hand twitched slightly, and Gohan could just make out some eye movement below his eyelids. Vegeta's ki had been a pale ghost of his usual level over the past few days. Even before Vegeta started moving properly Gohan could feel its power rise, fluctuating dramatically before settling on a steadier level closer to his standard resting ki.

Gohan's skin itched, and sweat formed on his forehead as the temperature inside the claustrophobic room increased.

Vegeta grunted and blinked a few times. He said something in another language, then opened his eyes fully, focussing on Gohan. His brow crinkled in puzzlement, then his eyes widened and he let out a groan, clutching his head in his hands. He attempted to stand, but his body arched in obvious pain and he cried out, rolling onto his hands and knees instead.

"Leave," he gasped out.

"I'm not going anywhere," Gohan replied, proud of how steady his voice sounded.

"Then you will die." It came out almost in a whimper, but when Vegeta lifted his head and looked at Gohan, the boy could see the struggle between the Vegeta he'd come to know - the one who loved reading, solved math equations in his spare time, and helped his dead rival's son with his homework – and another one altogether.

Gohan fired up his ki in response, turning Super Saiyan. He positioned himself into a fighting stance, then motioned with his fingers for Vegeta to attack him.

Vegeta dropped his gaze with a growl. His shoulders shook, and he clenched his fists. He appeared to be fighting it, but when Vegeta let out a scream, his ki rocketing and aura turning yellow, Gohan knew that Vegeta's bloodlust had won.

The prince got to his feet, and snarled at Gohan. "You will die today."

"He's not warm enough," Bulma hissed in Gohan's ear. "You are going to have to fight him."

"I am the strongest being on the planet," Gohan boasted, hoping it was still true. Vegeta's ki was unstable, but at certain points it was higher than he'd ever felt it. "You can't kill me. You don't have the strength." He threw Vegeta a smirk, knowing exactly how to rile him up. "Or the skill."

Vegeta roared a guttural sound of fury, then rushed at Gohan so fast the boy couldn't dodge the first punch even though he was mentally prepared for it. He started fighting back, matching blow for blow, making Vegeta's anger grow as he kept up with the man. The temperature of the room was stifling, but it didn't slow Vegeta down. Gohan managed to kick him to the floor, but Vegeta got up instantly and flung himself back into the fight.

"A little more," Bulma murmured.

The temperature in the GR went up even more, making Gohan feel slightly faint. He forced himself to focus as Vegeta's fierce punches and kicks rained on him. Vegeta's actions may have been unaffected by the heat, but Gohan noticed sweat beading on the Saiyan prince's forehead, and the pallor of his skin had paled.

Gohan unzipped his pocket and slipped his hand inside. "Is that all you've got?" Gohan asked, pulling out the syringe and hiding it in his clenched fist. "No wonder you never surpassed my father. What a pathetic effort."

As hoped, Vegeta's ki rose higher, and he reached an ascended state of Super Saiyan with a furious scream.

"Now!" Bulma said.

Gohan planted himself on the floor of the gravity room, and tensed for Vegeta's incoming attack. Vegeta slammed against him hard, pinning him to the floor. Gohan gasped at the impact, and cried out as a punch to his side cracked his ribs. He tasted blood in his mouth and coughed, gagging on the fluid.

"Do it!" Bulma commanded. As Vegeta lifted his arm to deliver another bone-cracking blow, Gohan stabbed the top of his leg with the thick needle and pushed the liquid in.

Vegeta rocked back in surprise, then yanked the syringe out and threw it across the floor. "What did you do?" He fell backwards off Gohan, hitting the ground with a thud.

Gohan sat up and spat out the blood in his mouth on the floor. "I'm helping you."

Vegeta's ki spiked unbelievably high, then plummeted. He turned back to his dark-haired form, his breathing ragged. "No… Gohan… you-" He broke off with a scream, but this time it wasn't rage, but pure pain.

Gohan watched in horror as the man writhed on the floor, clawing at his bare arms hard enough to draw lines of blood that trekked red rivers across his tan skin.

"Bulma!" Gohan cried. "Is this supposed to happen?" He ignored the pain of his own broken ribs and dragged himself to the prince's side, then grabbed Vegeta's wrists to try stop the man from hurting himself more.

"I…" Bulma's voice sounded terrified. "I don't know."

Vegeta let out a shuddering moan, his eyes rolling back in his head. Then his arms went limp in Gohan's hands and he just… stilled.

No sound. Not a muscle twitch.

Gohan placed his hand on his chest to check if he was breathing. Nothing. With shaking hands, Gohan pressed his fingers to Vegeta's wrist, desperately feeling for any kind of heart beat.

The door to the gravity room opened and cool air washed in. Bulma ran over, her face pale with horror.

Gohan looked up at her, the tears brimming in his eyes blurring the sight of her. "I can't find a pulse," he choked out. "I… I killed him!"

* * *

 **A/N: Cliffhanger! #sorrynotsorry**

 **Some Q &A from the latest reviews:**

 **Are you a math and science savant too?** LOL I wish! I read a lot, and work in software development which makes mathematical competency a necessity, and gives me fantastic experience in googling things, often because my math skills are subpar.

 **How many chapters do you plan on this story having?** I only have two more chapters planned. But I thought that five chapters ago, so no promises!


	51. Chapter 51

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

Bulma pulled the cap off the needle in her hand with her teeth, then shoved Gohan none too gently out of the way. She jabbed the needle into Vegeta's arm, then pushed the plunger down, emptying the syringe's contents into his bloodstream. Leaning over him, Bulma started compressions on his chest, counting them in her head.

Gohan let out a sob beside her, his shoulders shaking. "I'm sorry," he said over and over. "I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault… I gave him… a shot of Epinephrine," Bulma managed to get out between compressions. "It'll be okay. He'll be fine." She kept going, praying she was right. It would take the drug a few minutes to circulate to his heart.

"Why isn't it working?" Gohan sniffed and wiped his eyes. "Shouldn't it be working by now?"

"Count for me," she said. "Thirty-six, thirty-seven…"

Gohan did as she asked, much to Bulma's relief, allowing her to concentrate on the difficult task of compressing hard enough on a chest made of solid muscle.

After two hundred compressions, Bulma paused to catch her breath.

"Do you want me to take over?" Gohan asked.

Bulma shook her head. "You're injured." She leaned over Vegeta again, placing her hands on his chest. Bulma began compressions again, and got eleven in when Vegeta let out a small but audible gasp. She stopped immediately and grabbed her phone out of her pocket, looking at Vegeta's vital signs displaying on the screen.

A weak but steady heart beat blipped on the screen. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

* * *

Vegeta lay in his bed, too still for someone merely sleeping. Her father had insisted on sedating him until they could be sure the treatment had worked. Bulma touched a hand to Vegeta's cheek, noting with relief that his temperature felt normal, even though his usually tan skin tone looked pale.

The machine next to him beeped with every beat of his heart. Bulma kept glancing at the screen, watching the little lines go up and down, almost too scared to look away in case it stopped. She'd come so close to losing him.

Bulma held his hand tightly, squeezing it. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I was so sure I could cure you. I should have done more tests. I…" Burning tears fell, and she brushed them away angrily. Now was not the time to fall apart.

Dr Briefs came into the room, looking at a clipboard. "How's our boy doing?" he asked, glancing up from the paper.

"He's stable," Bulma said. "For now, at least."

"He's been through worse," Dr Briefs reminded her. "Remember when he blew up the gravity room?" he placed a comforting hand on his daughter's shoulder for a moment, then went back to flipping through his clipboard notes. "I've run some tests and there is no trace of the toxin in his system. We can take him off the sedatives and bring him back."

Bulma let out a sigh of relief. Her father handed her the clipboard, then started adjusting Vegeta's drip. Bulma looked at the notes on the paper. "The endorphins worked," she said, studying the results carefully. "But they neutralised the toxin too fast, causing a shock to his system than stopped his heart. I should have seen this coming." She closed her eyes briefly, taking long, deep breaths. When she opened her eyes again, she looked at the man lying before her. "He's always seemed so… indestructible."

"A human wouldn't have survived a fraction of what he has," Dr Briefs said. "I've ran some more tests. If we adjust the amount and dose him when his toxin levels are lower, he won't have this problem." Dr Briefs finished with the drip, and gave Bulma a tired smile. "It's not a cure, but if he keeps up his treatment, he'll never have a problem again."

Gohan appeared in the doorway and knocked lightly on the open door. "Can I come in?"

Bulma smiled widely at the boy. Despite the purple bruise on his jaw and a few abrasions, he was looking much better now that a doctor had looked at him. Vegeta had also broken some of Gohan's ribs, but Saiyan genes healed injuries fast. He would be fine in a few days.

"Of course." Bulma stood up and when he came over, pulled him into a hug. "Thank you so much for your help. I'm sorry you had to see all that."

"He'll really be okay?" Gohan pulled back and looked down at the sleeping Saiyan.

"He's going to be fine." Bulma sat back down and took Vegeta's hand again. "How long until he wakes up?" she asked her father.

"Not for a few hours," Dr Briefs said. "You should both get some rest. He looked at Gohan. "Especially you."

"Go on." Bulma touched Gohan's shoulder and pushed him gently towards the door. "Get some sleep. Your mother is going to be angry enough at me for your state."

Gohan laughed quietly, then nodded. "Come tell me when he is awake?"

"Of course," Bulma said. Gohan left the room and she looked at her father. "I'm staying here."

Dr Briefs sighed. "I'll get your mother to bring you some food. Call me if anything changes."

Bulma nodded in reply. Once her father left the room, she leaned onto Vegeta's chest and finally let the tears fall properly.

* * *

An incessant beeping lured him from his dreamless sleep. He tried to open his eyes, but his lids were too heavy. His whole body felt weighted down in fact, but he was conscious enough to recognise that the excruciating pain in his head no longer existed.

Giving up on opening his eyes for the moment, he concentrated on his extremities and attempted to wiggle his toes. He managed a little movement. He tried the same with his fingers, and found he could only curl them slightly.

What was going on? He felt as if he was in a gravity level higher than he'd ever trained in. He could have passed out in the gravity room, but even its top level wouldn't leave him unable to move at all. Besides, it felt like material beneath his fingers, and the surface he lay on was soft and warm, not cold and firm like the GR's tiles.

Vegeta tried to open his eyes again, groaning with the effort. He finally managed it and blinked a few times to clear his hazy vision. The room was dark, which meant it was likely night. He tried to remember what he'd been doing before he'd fallen asleep, but couldn't recall anything beyond trying to open the pill bottle for the medicine to stop his headache.

As the sound of someone breathing softly next to him registered, he slowly turned his head to the right. In the shadows, Vegeta could just make out her features. She sat in a chair next to his bed - he was in his room at Capsule Corp, he realised - her head tipped back in sleep.

The last time he'd woken to her keeping vigil by his bed, the gravity room had blown up, nearly killing him. Had he been in a training accident? Vegeta tried moving again, and found that his limbs felt a little less heavy. With a grunt, he forced himself to a sitting position, horrified at how out of breath he felt from the movement.

He mentally catalogued each part of his body, searching for injuries. While he ached in places, and his arms were covered in deep scratches, there didn't appear to be anything seriously wrong. Other than feeling heavy and incredibly tired, he was fine. Vegeta's stomach rumbled, and he pressed his hand to it. He could add hungry to the list as well.

Vegeta gingerly swung his legs over the left side of the bed and used the bed to push himself to a standing position. He glanced back at Bulma, but she hadn't moved. He wouldn't wake her, he decided. He had no idea how long he'd been there, but he felt like he'd slept for days, which knowing the woman, meant she hadn't.

Deciding that attending to his empty stomach took precedence over anything else, he took a few steps towards the door. He felt a sharp tug at his arm, and realised too late that he was hooked up to the machine causing the blasted beeping. The tug on his arm sent him off balance on his already unsteady legs, and he tumbled to the floor with a crash. The machine stopped its steady beat and proceeded to emit a loud, consistent whining noise.

Vegeta lay on the ground and put his hands over his ears with a groan, all his energy spent.

"Vegeta!" Bulma's ki spiked erratically, a blinding light turned on, and the next moment she was at his side, looking down at him with tear-filled eyes.

"Turn that damned thing off before I blast it!" He pressed his hands harder against his ears.

Bulma's expression changed from concern, and a grin spread across her face. "You're okay." She got to her feet and turned off the machine, cutting off the sound abruptly. She came back to his side and threw her arms around him. "You're really ok."

"I'm fine, woman," he grumbled, trying to extract himself from her tight embrace. "You're acting like I died and came back to life."

"You _did_ , you jerk," Bulma said, pulling back and slapping him lightly on his chest. "You died on me and I…" Her eyes glistened again. "I'm just happy you are okay."

Vegeta frowned at that. He didn't feel like he died - and he did have some experience with that. He hauled himself to his feet, biting his tongue when Bulma helped him only because it was slightly less humiliating than the possibility of falling over again.

"What were you thinking, getting out of bed in your state?" Bulma asked.

"I'm hungry," Vegeta said with a shrug.

Bulma gave him a wry smile. "I bet. You haven't eaten in days. I suppose nutrients through a drip wouldn't do much for a Saiyan stomach." She helped him back into his bed and pulled the blankets up over him. He glared at her, but didn't have the energy to stop her as she smoothed them over him like he was a child.

"I'll go get you some food," she said with a smile, taking his hand and squeezing it. "And then I'll tell you everything."

* * *

Vegeta glanced up at a noise at the door, assuming it was Bulma returning with his food. He realised before his gaze had even gotten to the door that the ki signature wasn't hers, so wasn't surprised when his eyes met Gohan's.

The boy hovered in the doorway, a troubled expression on his face. He looked a little like he had the first day they'd sparred - sad and a little lost. Something Vegeta knew all too well, not that he'd ever admit that to anyone.

"How are you feeling?" Gohan asked, dropping his gaze to glance around the room, looking at anything but Vegeta, it seemed.

"Hungry." He glared at the boy. "Stop lurking. Either enter, or leave."

Gohan shuffled in, but lingered near the doorway, beside the now thankfully silent machine. "You died," he said, scuffing his socked foot on the carpet.

"So I heard." Vegeta leaned back into his pillows, the exhaustion that had plagued him since he woke, overwhelming him even more. "It seems Earth cannot get rid of me that easily."

"I'm really sorry." Gohan sniffed, and when he finally looked at Vegeta, his eyes were damp like Bulma's had been.

"Cut the sentimental crap," Vegeta demanded, too taken aback to bother hiding the irritation in his tone. "I'm perfectly well. What is there to be sorry for?"

"I'm the one who killed you," Gohan replied in a trembling voice.

Vegeta scowled at the kid. "I don't have any real injuries. I don't see how that is possible."

"I injected you with the medicine that was supposed to make you better… but it…." Tears spilled over and Gohan wiped them away roughly.

Vegeta clicked his tongue in disgust. Why did the boy care if he lived or died? "There is no need to get worked up about it. I've had plenty of people try to kill me. I don't take it personally anymore."

Gohan let out a shuddering laugh.

Vegeta studied the boy carefully, noting the purple patches of skin on his face. "It looks like I already gave you a beating, so consider us even."

He closed his eyes, blocking out Gohan's tear-streaked face. "Go back to bed, boy. I'm not dying tonight unless it's of starvation, and you look worse off than me."

He heard Gohan's footsteps move away, but sensed the boy pausing at the doorway.

"Thanks, Vegeta," Gohan said, sounding a little steadier than he had before. "You know, you aren't a _completely_ terrible person."

Vegeta snorted at that, and heard Gohan skittering away. _Not a completely terrible person_. Earthlings were all idiots.

* * *

"What is _this_?" Vegeta stared at the bowl in front of him, his face aghast.

Bulma hid a laugh. "Soup."

"I can see that, but where is the real food?" Vegeta picked up his spoon and prodded the middle of the bowl. "This soup is all liquid. It doesn't have any meat or vegetables. I need solid food, woman, not this watery crap."

"You haven't eaten in days."

"Exactly!"

Bulma sighed and rolled her eyes. "If I give you anything too solid you won't be able to keep it down. Eat the damn soup."

Vegeta glared at her, but took a slow sip of the chicken soup Bulma's mother had made especially for when he awoke. Bulma took him in as he ate, watching the way his expression relaxed with each spoonful. A little of the colour had crept back into his cheeks, much to her relief. He'd looked so close to death when sedated, and even after he'd just woken, he'd been pale and sluggish - a ghost of his usual self, even despite his abrasive demands for silence and food.

"You're staring." Vegeta's eyebrows knitted together in a deep frown. "What the hell happened that has you and Kakarot's brat looking at me like I could disappear into thin air at any moment?"

Bulma swallowed a lump in her throat. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Vegeta's frown smoothed out and he ate another spoonful of soup before replying. "I had a headache. I tried to get the pill bottle open and…" he stared into his bowl, then looked at Bulma with a shrug. "I don't remember anything else."

"You passed out," Bulma said.

"What?" Vegeta stiffened in bed, his eyes wide.

"You know… fell unconscious. Fainted," Bulma said, assuming he didn't understand the phrase.

Vegeta's muscles tensed even more. "Saiyan's do _not_ faint."

Bulma's lips twitches as she tried not to grin at Vegeta's expression. Of course, looking weak would be his biggest concern. "The toxins in your system - the ones that give you the bloodlust - got too high for your body to handle. We kept you sedated until we could artificially produce the same endorphins that you get from killing someone."

"Since I no longer feel like ripping everyone apart, I assume it worked?" Vegeta asked before finishing the last of the soup.

Bulma took his tray and placed it on his desk, then perched on the edge of the bed beside him. "It did…" She hesitated, unsure how he'd feel about what had occurred. "But the reaction was too much for your body to handle. It… it stopped your heart."

Vegeta looked at her with one of his expressions she hadn't learnt to read yet. "For how long?"

"Two to three minutes."

Vegeta rubbed his hand over his face, then leaned back on the pillows stacked behind him with a loud exhale.

"I'm so sorry." Bulma looked at his hand, lying on top of the blanket. "I was desperate to make you better so you didn't have to leave. And I didn't run all the tests I should have." A tear escaped and trickled down her cheek.

"Ugh, not you too." Vegeta's hand lifted to her face, and he gently brushed it away with his thumb.

Bulma placed her hand over his, leaning into it. "It _killed_ you. I don't think I can ever forgive myself."

"Look at me." Vegeta guided her face in his direction. "I am alive. There is nothing worth bawling over. Okay?"

Bulma chewed the inside of her cheek to hold back the rest of the tears. Vegeta's gaze didn't leave her face, so she nodded in reply.

He dropped his hand to the top of her thigh and let it lie there.

"Dad has adjusted the medicine so it won't affect you in the same way again," she said, looking back down again. "If you don't let your symptoms get too bad, anyway. It's not a cure because you'll need to monitor your toxin levels and inject the medicine regularly, but we may be able to find a way to make it permanent."

"Bulma…"

"But if you don't want to stay that long, we are reproducing enough medicine to get you by for about five years. I can even give you instructions on how to create more so any scientist in the universe could help you with."

"Bulma."

She looked at up again, and Vegeta stared at her, his dark eyes lit with a dangerous fire behind them. He leaned forward and touched her hair, running his fingers through it.

"You talk far too much," he said gruffly, before pressing his lips to hers.

Bulma sighed, melting into him as he kissed her slowly, almost sleepily, his hands continuing to wind through her hair.

"We shouldn't," she murmured against his lips. "You only just-"

He kissed her harder, muffling the rest of her sentence, then started trailing a hand down her back, before finding the bottom of her shirt and creeping his fingers upwards, underneath the material.

Bulma whimpered against him, wanting nothing more than to continue. But she placed her hands on his chest, and pushed him backwards. "You only just woke up."

"So?" Vegeta quirked an eyebrow. "I'm perfectly capable, if that is what you are worried about."

Bulma glanced down at his lap, which even through the sheets made it obvious he was telling the truth.

"You had a cardiac arrest," she said slowly, trying to ignore the fingers making patterns on her back. His other hand found her shoulder and started stroking the sensitive skin on top, making her shiver. "You need to take it easy."

"What I _need_ , is for you to stop looking at me like I might die at any moment. I feel perfectly well… I told you." He gave her a wicked grin, leaning forward again to whisper in her ear. "I'm merely hungry."

Vegeta pressed his lips against her neck, then scraped his teeth against her skin as he pulled back. Bulma gasped, then tilted her head to kiss him again, circling her arms around his neck to pull him close again, all objections forgotten.

Vegeta peeled off their clothes languorously, placing slow, hot kisses all over her body, as if savouring the taste of her. When he'd finally rid them of clothing, he rolled on top of her and moved his mouth down her body, making her squirm with every touch. When he reached her sensitive core, she clenched her fists into the sheets below her, unable to stop herself crying out as he continued the unhurried torture.

"Vegeta…" She reached down and ran her hands through his hair. "I want you… now."

He chuckled against her, and brought himself back up on top of her, using his arms to prop himself up so he didn't crush her, but remained pressed against her in all the right places. He stared into her eyes with his dark ones, clouded with desire, before he entered her slowly.

Bulma let out a soft cry, and ran her hands down his muscled back. She'd _never_ had sex with Vegeta like this before, usually preferring the hot passion that came with a quick tumble. They tore each other's clothes off, they had sex, they fucked until both of them were hoarse from screaming out.

They _didn't_ make love.

Maybe it was the remaining sedative in his system, or the realisation of how close he'd come to death, but he seemed determined to do just that.

Bulma found herself relaxing into the rhythm, enjoying the feel of his hands lethargically trailing over her body, sending shivers in spider webs over her skin. She gasped as he began to speed up incrementally, but still not fast enough… she wanted more to the point she might die from frustration, and then, _Kami_ … she arched her back with a moan as he adjusted their angle, driving in deeper and deeper and faster and faster… until finally… everything exploded around her, and she screamed his name louder than she'd ever done, clawing his back with her fingernails and shuddering underneath him.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger on the last chapter, but I couldn't resist!**

 **I had a few more questions via reviews again, so here's some QA:**

 **What made him die in that instance?** Hopefully this chapter has explained it.

 **Why'd Vegeta rile Gohan up even further by saying that Goku abandoned him and his unborn brother? He knew that Goku probably did what he did due to the same reason as he himself was about to.** Because Vegeta believes Goku _has_ abandoned his family, and he is still battling with which is the lesser of two evils - staying and possibly being the one to harm his family physically and/or emotionally, or leave and definitely harm them emotionally. Also he was in a lot of pain and not in the mood to make Gohan feel better.

 **By ascended super saiyan do you mean Veggie went Super Saiyan 2 or the bulky form?** I didn't specify, but in my head it was the bulky form which he never would have used if he was in his right state of mind.

 **You should continue this until post buu.** Thanks! I want to finish this with the ending I have in mind. If I drag it out, I might not be as happy with it. I am considering continuing it as a sequel to post buu. Would anyone want to read that?

 **Why are your chapters posted in the middle of the night?** I don't! I post mostly in the evenings or in the early mornings. If you are getting my updates at odd times it just means that don't live in the same country/timezone as you.


	52. Chapter 52

**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

He breathed her in, burying his nose in her hair to soak in the smell of her strawberry shampoo. Bulma's deep, even breaths indicated she was asleep, so Vegeta took the opportunity to study her in the light of breaking dawn leaking through the curtains. Even though he'd done it many times before, he still found her fascinating. She was all soft curves and smooth skin, and so unlike his hard edges, scarred from years of battles and abuse.

He ran a hand lightly down her side, intrigued by the dip in her waist and tempted to wake her and convince her to couple with him again. But she slept so peacefully next to him, he couldn't bring himself to rouse her from her slumber. Pushing down his growing frustration, Vegeta forced himself to rest next to her, enjoying the warmth of her body, and the way it fit perfectly against his.

He didn't know what exactly she'd given him to bring him back from the dead, but he felt… different. The heaviness he'd been afflicted with upon awaking had vanished, leaving him with an urge to escape the confines of the room and fly as far and as high as he could. He could imagine bursting into the sky towards the outer reaches of the atmosphere until he tasted the bitterness that came with a lack of oxygen on his tongue. His ki fizzed with a different kind of energy at the thought, bubbling just below the surface, begging to be set free.

In that moment, Vegeta knew that if he wished, he could have battled Kakarot and won. He could fight Gohan right now, and defeat him. He could leave this planet, take on the universe, and rule it.

Bulma had been right when she'd told him that without the bloodlust, he could make any choice he wanted. Before, he hadn't wanted to make a choice, because that would have meant allowing himself to believe the possibility that he could actually be free. Vegeta gazed at Bulma's sleeping form next to him and finally made up his mind.

For the first time since arriving on Earth he knew _exactly_ what he wanted to do.

* * *

Bulma stretched drowsily, blinking at the orange sunlight peaking in through a crack in the curtain. Last night had been incredible. She smiled to herself at the memory. It was like something out of a dream. The only other time Vegeta had come close to being that loving during sex was when he… when he was about to leave for space.

Bulma gasped and patted the other side of the mattress. Warm, but empty. She turned on the lamp and stared at the indent beside her in the bed. Vegeta had just left.

Her heart leapt to her throat. But left to go where?

A terrible sinking sensation hit the bottom of her stomach and she climbed out of bed, pulling on her dressing gown as fast as she could.

She ran through the house and burst out the front door, speeding across the damp grass with bare feet, not caring about the cold air. The lights for the spaceship were on. He _was_ leaving.

Vegeta glanced at her when she stormed into the ship. He stood in front of the comms screen, a pen in his hand hovering over a piece of paper on the desk in front of the screen. The screen showed a man with dark red hair, the colour of blood. He'd clearly noticed Bulma and started grinning, then spoke to Vegeta in another language.

Bulma's breath hitched as she recognised the man. He was older now, but definitely the same man from the photos she'd seen on Vegeta's chip. _Kami_ , he was really leaving. Vegeta had reached out to his contacts across the universe to find somewhere else to go. Somewhere not with her or their son.

Vegeta said something back to the man, then cut the communication. He stared at her, his dark eyes revealing nothing.

"Bulma…" he said finally, his voice unusually soft.

"No," she said, tears finally spilling over. "Don't." She ran from the ship as fast as she could.

* * *

Vegeta tried Bulma's door handle, but it was locked. "Bulma! Let me in."

"Get out!" Bulma called out, her voice slighty muffled. "If you are going to leave, just fucking leave, you bastard. I don't want to see you."

Vegeta scowled and pounded his fist on the door. "Open the door or I'll break the damn thing down!"

"Go to hell!"

"In case you'd forgotten, I've already been there!" Vegeta growled under his breath, and went to kick the door in, but stopped when he felt other ki signatures approaching.

He leaned his forehead on the door with a sigh. "Please let me in," he said through gritted teeth. "We are about to have an audience."

"Good! Then everyone can know what a world-class asshole you are."

"You're jumping to conclusions, woman. Besides, you told me it was okay for me to leave," Vegeta reminded her. "You said I could make whatever choice I want."

"I didn't think you'd make the _wrong_ choice, you jerk!" Bulma's voice rose exponentially, and he realised she was right on the other side of the door. Great, he couldn't even kick it down without hurting her.

"You're not listening to-"

"No, you listen to me, buddy," she snapped. "You can't give me the best sex of my life and then fuck off to outer space, never to return."

Vegeta closed his eyes and groaned, sensing Gohan, Bulma's parents, and his son in the hallway. There was no way they hadn't heard that. His face heated up, and he stayed resting against the door, too mortified to move.

"I hate you right now," he hissed, just loud enough for Bulma to hear, before finally turning around to face the intruders.

"It's good to see you up and about, dear," Mrs Briefs said cheerfully, bouncing Trunks on her hip. "We were all so worried."

"Er… yes, glad to see you are well and not still trying to kill everyone," Dr Briefs said. "We should ah… leave them to it." He pulled on his wife's arm, but she just grinned widely at Vegeta, refusing to budge.

Gohan glared at Vegeta, reminding his of Kakarot in the middle of a battle. "You're _leaving_?" He asked, breaking the sudden silence.

Vegeta wished his face didn't go bright red when embarrassed as it heated up even more. "I never said-"

"Because I thought you were different." Gohan stared at him with wide, dark eyes. "You didn't think my dad should have done what he did. Why are you leaving your family?"

"I never said I was leaving!" Vegeta shouted, his ki flaring around him.

The Briefs looked shocked, but Trunks just grinned and clapped his hands. "Yay, Papa!"

Vegeta took in a couple of deep breaths, then lowered his ki back down. "I _never_ said I was leaving," he said again.

The door behind him opened a crack. "Then why were you in the spaceship?" Bulma asked quietly.

Vegeta dug into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He handed it to her, then stepped back. She opened the door completely, then entered the hallway and stood beside her father. Vegeta shifted awkwardly on his feet, watching the Briefs and Gohan as Bulma unfolded the piece of paper slowly, a frown creasing her brow.

Bulma looked up from it. "What is this?"

"That is a list of everything I now own," Vegeta said. "I just traded everything I had before - the properties and shares in different businesses from around the universe - for everything on this paper."

"I don't understand…"

Dr Briefs looked over Bulma's should at the paper, his eyes widening. "Oh my…"

"I know, it's not much," Vegeta said hurriedly. "I sold everything at a horrendously low price because Elrik could do with the money he'll get from the properties to help rebuild Jalak. But the tech and alloys on this list could grow Capsule Corp exponentially so I..." He trailed off at Bulma's impenetrable expression.

"You're staying." She handed the paper to her father, who took it and read over it again, his normally stern face overcome with glee. "You're staying on Earth."

Vegeta's muscles tightened as he suddenly realised he'd been taking so long to make up his mind to stay, that he'd never considered the possibility that she could change _her_ mind. Given her furious reaction to the idea of him leaving, he had assumed she wanted him to stay, but maybe he'd misunderstood. Maybe she was angry because she thought he was leaving without saying anything. Maybe she really _didn't_ care if he left.

"I know the procedure only got rid of my bloodlust." An odd sensation of panic overcame him as he tried to read her normally expressive face, but for the first time he couldn't tell what she was feeling. She stood only a couple of arms lengths away from him, but they could have been a universe apart at that moment. "I am a Saiyan, not a human, and I never will be." She kept staring at him blankly. _Shit_ , she was really going to make him say this in front of everyone. "I know I'm unpredictable, and angry most of the time, and I'm a terrible father and even worse… whatever I am to you. But I want to try this." He took a small step forward. "I want to stay," he said desperately. "If you… if you will allow it."

Bulma didn't move for a long moment, making Vegeta feel as though he might burst. Then she stepped forward so she stood just in front of him.

"If I will _allow_ it?" she repeated.

"Uh…" Vegeta stared at her hesitantly. "Well…"

Bulma threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He stiffened under the assault, all too aware of the four pairs of eyes staring at them, but after deciding he really couldn't be any more humiliated anyway, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her back.

"Is that a yes?" Vegeta asked uncertainly when she pulled back, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Yes!" Bulma grinned at him, but tears kept flowing. "Of course you can stay."

"But…" Vegeta glanced around the hall for the source of her sadness. Her family and Gohan were grinning like idiots, except for Mrs Briefs who wiped her tears away before setting Trunks on the ground. "Why are you crying?"

"Because I'm happy, silly," Bulma sniffed.

Vegeta reached out and touched her damp cheek. "Humans are weird."

Trunks ran over and wrapped one arm around each of his parents' legs. Vegeta glanced down at his son, and placed a cautious hand on his head. Of all the mathematical probabilities in the universe, entering into a chain of events that included coming to Earth, meeting Bulma, and having a child, when the only thing he'd been destined for three years prior was death and destruction… surely this had to have been the least probable outcome.

Vegeta leaned in and kissed the woman in front of him, forgetting about the people looking on as he realised that for the first time in his life, improbable or not, his life had finally all added up to something.

 **THE END**

* * *

 **A/N: And that is a wrap! What a whirlwind three months writing this story has been…**

If you read all the way to the end _thank you_. Seriously, thank you so very much for taking the time to bother with my writing! Please do leave a review if you made it this far, and let me know what you thought. Feedback good and bad is what makes us all grow as writers.

This started as an experiment to help me get over a severe case of long term writer's block. I am usually plagued with a perfectionist's dilemma, editing the same chapter over and over instead of just writing the next one. I'd never tried writing fanfic before, and this has really helped me in getting back into a regular rhythm. All your favourites, follows and reviews encouraged me to just keep going.

I may or may not write a sequel set in the Buu saga. I will probably write some one shots at some point. In the meantime, I will be focussing on my own characters instead of DBZs!

If anyone has any burning questions about _It all adds up_ , make sure you are signed in if you put them into a review so I can reply, or just PM me directly. I'd love to hear from you!

Farewell for now! xo


End file.
